Elevators, Blackouts, and Strangers
by Emmeline Rose
Summary: Bella Swan is a successful editor at The New York Times, and her life is only getting better. But when she gets stuck in an elevator during a summer blackout with a mysterious stanger, everything gets complicated.
1. Sight, Sound, and Words

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Twilight or any of the characters.

Elevators, Blackouts, and Strangers

Chapter 1- Sound, Sight, and Words

**Bella**

_BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP! BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP! _

I groaned as my obnoxious, yet effective, alarm startled me awake. Rolling over on my bed that was empty besides my pillows, sheets and myself, my hand flung onto my nightstand, and smacked it a few times, searching for the alarm clock, then more precisely, the snooze button. Upon remembering that this alarm clock was new, a gift from Alice that did not actually have a snooze button, I reluctantly swung my legs over my light blue sheets, letting my feet touch the floor as I rubbed my eyes. My fingers found the dismiss button, and my ears revelled in the silence. Forbidding myself to fall back asleep, I stood, too quickly, making myself dizzy. Steadying myself, I checked to make sure I was still fully dressed in my girl boxers and ribbed, white tank top before creeping into the rest of the apartment.

Tiptoeing on the maple floor so as not to wake my two roomates, Alice and Rosalie, I headed toward the miniscule kitchen. Slipping through the open wall and past the refridgerator, I found the coffee maker that already had grounds and water inside, and flipped on the switch, making it bubble to life. Sneaking back into my room, I grabbed my clothes from our joint, ridiculously large closet that led to each of our rooms, and headed into the bathroom. Sure, many people thought it was ridiculous that we all used the same, walk-in closet, and had plenty of room, but our bathroom, though it had three sinks, was barely adequete for three girls in their early twenties.

Dropping my clean clothes on the counter beside my sink that was the farthest right, I hung my fluffy pink towel over the shower door and twisted the knob allowing water to gush into the shower. Kicking off my clothes, I enveloped the room with clouding steam. The hot water pounded against my back, reddening my pale skin, and rinsing away the last of my grogginess. Because I was the only one of us that had a typical nine-to-five job Monday through Friday job, I was also the only person who had to wake up at six in the morning. I gave myself about an hour to shower, dry my hair, put on the touches of mascara and lip gloss, dress, another to pour coffee into a Thermos, search for my keys that were in my purse the entire time, grab some breakfast, grab my briefcase, and say 'good morning' to Alice who had her alarm set to the time when I left in the morning, eight am. Another hour was allotted to walk the two blocks to the subway station, and to get to the office about half an hour later, and a half an hour before the elevators became crowded with employees.

Sliding on my black, pencil skirt and throwing a metallic, silver blouse over my head, I watched myself in the mirror, thinking about how to adjust my hair. Clicking the curling iron on to heat, I pulled my black tights over my hips, and slid into my favorite white ballet flats that were made formal by white lace. I curled the ends of my hair, and threw it up into a ponytail, leaving my over-grown side bangs hanging free to my jawline. Without the need for a coat in the summer heat of New York City, I instead slid on my black-rimmed reading glasses that I insisted on wearing to the office to give me more of a professional look, and less of a 'please flirt with me even though we both know you are married' look. Long story. Sipping from my Thermos of Italian roast coffee, I snatched an apple from the kitchen table, and slid my purse over my shoulder, dropped my apple into it, and held my briefcase with my one free hand.

As I made my way to the front door of the apartment, I heard another bedroom door click open and saw a very tired, and slightly hungover Alice emerge from the room. She wore a white tank top to sleep in as I had, but in the heat had just worn her hot pink Victoria's Secret panties instead. We had air conditioning, but it never seemed to be cold enough to wear even the thinnest of pajamas.

"Morning Alice." I greeted her as she rubbed her eyes.

"Huh? Oh, hi Bella." Normally she was a morning person, but the exception was when alcohol was involved the night before. Rosalie had invited her to this party that I had refused to attend, and had returned late last night with a stumbling Alice. Rose always forgot that she could hold her liquor a lot better than the tiny Alice could. Even if she had remembered, she probably would not have stopped her. In truth, Alice was quite amusing when drunk, and often ended up singing karaoke very loudly with her high pitched voice. This would not be abnormal except for the fact that we never went to karaoke bars.

"Coffee's ready, and there's Tylenol in the medicine cabinet. Bye Alice." I said before I shut the door behind me.

"Thanks." Poor girl. Knowing Rosalie, she would wake up looking fantastic, and without even the barest hint of having drank the night before. Maybe the term 'blondes have more fun' was because for some reason, there was an aversion to hangovers that came with the lightness of her hair. It would not matter if I were blonde, brunette, or even red-head, I never drank anything heavier than wine or beer on an average night, risking only a martini when I was only with Alice, not Rose. I loved Rose, but she was more adventurous than I was.

The shops down the street from our Columbus Circle apartment were just opening, and the few store owners I knew gave me a friendly wave, not out of friendliness, but of all the money I had spent during the six years we lived there. The three of us were from a small town in Washington called Forks, where rain and clouds were consistent, and moss grew on the trees in the many forests. We were friends for as long as we were alive, and had even gone to college together. Though we loved Forks, universities, careers, and adolescence called us to NYU, and later on to live in the heart of Manhattan.

The three of us were lucky enough to have scored a three bedroom apartment in Columbus Circle for a very low rent due to a typo in the ad. We had signed up with an online rental application site, and were the first ones to hear about an apartment that would normally be four thousand dollars a month had been mis-typed to be only four hundred a month. Due to the rent control laws in New York, the renter was not allowed to raise the rent after we applied for it. I did not feel guilty about it though, for the building was huge and the owners were in the same social class as Donald Trump--utterly worthy of being taken advantage of in our views.

Sitting on the rumbling, relatively clean subway seat as it raced me to my office, I bit into the sour green apple, and sipped my coffee. I worked at The New York Times as a junior editor. Basically that meant I reviewed some of the hundreds of columns that were written by the people who one day wanted to publish their columns into the newspaper, fixed and edited them, and the few of them that were good enough were published. Only the sad part was was that I was not the only junior editor, in fact, there were tens of them. Only a few of the articles or columns I have edited were worthy of the New York Times, and they were of course cut out and scrap-booked by Alice. My boss told me, however, I had great potential, and that someday soon the time would come when I would get assigned a permanent column to edit every week. Well, someday soon had turned into one year. I had been working there for two.

My professors at NYU pulled some strings and got me the interview for this dissapointing, yet still my dream, job, and though posh as the office was with sleek decor seen mostly in fashion magazine offices was still serious and was a place only for serious writers and editors. Did I want to become Editor in Cheif one day? Maybe, but that would have to wait. The pay was terrible now, and thank goodness my friends also had incomes, small as they were.

Rosalie had chosen to become a model/spokesperson/waitress. Specifically, a waitress at one of the swankiest restaurants in Manhattan. With her good looks and uncanny memory and ability to get orders correct, she was instantly hired. With the outrageous prices, there were outrageous tips, especially from the gentlemen she served. She shamelessly wore low-cut, yet still appropriate, shirts, which had exponentially increased her tips. Often she used this as an excuse to go shopping with Alice.

"I am shopping for work clothes, it's practically a tax deduction." Rose would say. Though it was true, between the high tips grossed by the waitresses at that restaurant anyway and her modelesque appearance, she was by far the richest waitress I had ever heard of. And then there were her modeling gigs. Though they were rare, maybe three a week, she could easily be paid a few hundred dollars for a few hours while in her favorite place--the camera lens.

Alice was an up and coming fashion designer, and was currently interning at Vogue. She had been promoted from office work to freelance design, which meant that Alice worked her ass off all week to have maybe a design or concept chosen. There was very little in common with Alice's work and mine, but what there was in common was that of how much we worked and how little was noticed. Of course, that did not phase Alice. One of the things I loved most about her was that she never gave up. Not that I would let her, her designs were incredible. She could draw anything from a ballgown to street wear, and avant garde couture to lingerie. Whenever her bosses liked one of her pieces, she would sew her fingers to the bone to make the sketches come to life in fabric, and casually use Rose as a model.

In fact, thanks to Alice, Rosalie had a job about once or twice a month garaunteed. Vogue told them that if Alice were to become an official designer they would pay Rosalie for her should she want her as a model. I hoped that this would one day happen, for they were both perfect at what they did, and worked so hard that they deserved it more than anyone. I may have been a little biassed, but I did not care. In my fantasies, they got everything they ever wanted. As for me, I got promoted as well, but could not see anything else besides that. Right now, work was my only priority.

I had not always been a workaholic, only as long as my love life had diminished into dry, sometimes repulsive even, dates on Saturday nights. Lately, Rosalie, Alice and I had given up on dating, and instead spent Saturday evenings huddled under a blanket with 97 fat free microwave popcorn, diet Pepsi, and a chick flick or old movie. Usually we would do each other's toes and fingernails, and would talk about the most random things, like the expression 'dead as a door nail'. If door nails were never alive, how could they be alive? We always blamed these thoughts on the Pepsi. There had to be some kind of chemical that we ingested on those Saturday nights that would make our minds completely free of any normality.

Stepping into the humid air, I rushed toward the towering, glass building of The New York Times, eager to escape the spongy heat that felt like a moist sponge that had been soaking warm water and then thrown in your face. Not that I knew what that felt like, but the metaphor seemed accurate when talking to Charlie on the phone. Renee understood, of course, living with Phil in Florida.

Making my way into the cool lobby, I said 'hi' to the familiar security guard, and clicked the button labeled 13 in the elevator. The elevators were lined against an outer wall, and had walls of glass on two sides, allowing a beautiful view of New York in the summertime. The white marble floor echoed my footsteps, and was always somewhat embarrassed when wearing heels, but often was forced to by my friends, or by the lack of formal flats. Due to my early arrival, I was alone in the small space. I leaned against the round, metal railing and let the cold steel cool my sweating palms. It was only the morning, and already I was sweating.

I made my way to my little gray cubicle that had various articles and schedules and phone numbers tacked onto the walls. I slid into the black leather swivel chair, and taped a post-it note onto my lunch that I had snagged from the fridge that morning in the apartment, and labeled it as mine. I put it into the mini fridge in the office kitchen when I heard my phone ring. I jogged over to my desk, and answered it.

"Bella Swan."

"Miss Swan, this is Angela Weber." Angela was my boss, and possibly one of the nicest people I had ever met. It was rare that both of these things were included in one person.

"Good morning, Miss Weber, how are you?" I asked politely, wondering why she was calling me, and not her secretary, Jessica Stanley, who was also the biggest office gossip of the century. Literally.

"Very well, and yourself?"

"Good, thanks."

"That's great, well I think you are going to feel even better soon."

"Um, why?" I asked, keeping my voice formal and polite.

"I would like to tell you in person, if that is alright."

"Yes, of course."

"Alright, can you stop by my office in about...ten minutes?"

"Sure."

"Great, see you then."

"See you then. Bye." We exchanged goodbyes, and I hung up the phone, wondering what the reason for this was. She did not seem upset with me, but I could not be sure. Whatever it was, it was certainly important. I did not bother setting up the rest of my things, for fear of being 'let go', and simply spun around in my chair foolishly like a child a few times when the clock read fifteen minutes to nine, the time I was supposed to see Miss Weber. I knocked on her office door, and she answered with a friendly 'come in.'

"You wanted to see me?" I said, poking my head in through the door.

"Yes. Come in please, and have a seat." She motioned with her hand toward one of the chairs before her mahogany desk. On it were organized piles of papers, and a gold plaque with her name inscribed in black. "I don't suppose you know what this is about?"

"No, I don't." Angela took one look at my widened eyes, and gave a chuckle.

"Don't be frightened, Bella, this is a good thing." I sighed, and sank into the chair as I smiled.

"I think I had too much caffeine this morning." I admitted, making her laugh.

"Well, I looked over your most recent edit, and loved it. You really worked the author, and made some spectacular out something dull." She complemented me.

"It was all the author's doing, not mine. He was very compromising. What was his name again? Oh, yes, Mike Newton." I answered myself.

"Now, don't be modest, Bella, it was really fantastic. And don't lie about Newton, I worked with him before and he can be a pain in the seat. You have done a great job, really." That made me smile and blush a little. Of course, many things made me blush.

"Thanks."

"To be honest, I love all of your work. We have a new columnist transferring here to write the new New York Arts column, focusing on music, art, and literature in the city, and is very promising. Well, I want you to be a permanent editor, and assign you to this new column. The author is supposedly easy to work with, and should be a great start. Your new office is just down the hall, about twenty feet from your cubicle, and of course you will get a substantial raise. Substantial meaning this one you can actually live on." Angela joked.

"Really? Thank you so much! I will not let you down, I promise!" We shook hands, and left her office as if I were floating on a cloud. It took me only minutes to transfer my tiny cubicle items to the office desk, and was surprised when it still looked empty inside. The space was limited, but it had a door, and a window to the outside world that was actually the entire northern wall. A light brown corner desk cut off half of the window along the bottom four feet, and a short, white futon was lined up against the west wall, one of the armrests pushed up against a small, square table that stood before the window.

A silver, bendable lamp sat on the corner of the desk, and the gold plaque that should have been on top of it was replaced by a folded piece of cardboard with my name written on masking tape in blue Sharpie. Unofficial as it was, I loved it more than anything, and promised myself that when I would get a permanent name plaque, I would take home the cardboard for Alice to paste into her ever-growing scrapbook.

A plush, black leather chair twice the size of my old one was before the desk, and looked onto New York below. File cabinets of flimsy, thin, gray metal lined three feet of wall, and were about four feet high. A key to the locked drawers rested on the top, and found them empty of everything but blank files with stickers on which to write names. Everything I needed was there, or had been transfered from my cubicle to it. The first thing I did as the editor of the New York Arts column was not to Google my author as I should have, but called Alice instead.

"Hello?" Her chipper voice had returned, as her mild hangover had worn off already. Apparently Rosalie had taken better care of her than I gave her credit for.

"Hey Alice! It's Bella."

"Bella, hi. What's up?"

"You're not working today, right?"

"God, I hope not. It's Wednesday, right?"

"Yeah, you're fine." Alice worked only on Mondays, Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays. Lucky duck.

"So...everything alright?" She asked, sort of sounding concerned. Rarely did I call her from work, normally I was too busy.

"Better than alright. Guess who's the new editor of the new New York Arts column?" I pulled the black phone away from my ear so as her scream would not deafen me. "You do know you have another roommate, Alice."

"I don't care!" She exclaimed. In the background, I heard a bang, and another voice.

"Alice! What the hell are you doing yelling at nine in the morning?" Rose. I feared for Alice's life.

"Shut up! Bella got promoted!"

"Gimme the phone! Bella? You got promoted? That's great!" Rosalie had taken command of the phone.

"Thanks! Listen, I have to go, but I will be back at the same time, and just wanted to tell you guys the good news. I'll tell you about my _office_ later!"

"You have an office? Like an office office?" Alice squealed.

"Is there any other kind? Sorry girls, have to go. Have to work. See you two tonight. Bye!"

"Bye!" They both said simultaneously. I set the phone on the receiver, and sighed as I sank into my leather chair, and stared at the city below.

The rest of the day passed by uneventfully, as there was no real work for me to do, what with the arrival of my new author not being until tomorrow, and all there was to do was to look over my new salary and benefits from my promotion. Every time I looked at those numbers, I smiled like a schoolgirl in love. And I was in love--with hardcover books and the shoes Alice wanted for her birthday that cost a month's worth of rent. I also set up my new computer, personalized the settings, and added the best websites to my favorites. I enjoyed the day, for it was nice break from sweating over hundreds of crappy articles all day that weren't even worthy of the National Enquirer, no less The Times. I now even was at the liberty to play music with the door shut. I made a mental note to bring my iPod and my sorry excuse for iPod speakers tomorrow.

The illuminated sky mislead the time, and before I knew it it was five in the afternoon, and was heading home after a great day. I was smiling contently to myself the entire ride home, and made no effort to stop. Why should I? I might as well enjoy it before I would be swamped with work again tomorrow when the author arrived.

That night I cooked for Alice, Rosalie and myself, and fell asleep with a smile for the first time in a very long time. I just hoped that my happiness would not be balanced out with additional stress the next day. Oh well, I would just make a post it note of my new salary to calm me down, that would be sure to help. _Just think about Alice's birthday gift, _I told myself. It was always difficult buying gifts for my friends without going bankrupt, and this year I could finally make up for last year's impersonal lotions and soaps from Bath and Body Works for Christmas. They loved them, of course, but they were painfully generic. This year was going to be the hottest shoes in a size six and an iPod Touch for Rose. An inside joke; she always wanted to touch things, whether we be at a museum, or at a bar, her fingers craved for touch. She was never embarrassed by it, but strangely, I was.

I told my friends about my new job, and went to bed at ten last night. Snuggling into my lavender-scented sheets, I slept soundly until my alarm blared once more. Tomorrow morning, however, would be different. Tomorrow, I would meet the person I would be editing. Tomorrow, I would begin the first full day of a window office and a respectable title.

All I could do was sleep, and invision what sort of 'art' I would be reading about; art in sound, sight, or words.


	2. Crash, Darken, and Stuck

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Twilight or any of the characters.

Elevators, Blackouts, and Strangers

Chapter 2- Crash, and Lights Out

_BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP._I did not let the alarm clock shatter my ear drums for minutes on end as I had yesterday. This morning, I had a will to rise besides that of necessity. For the first time in a very long time, I wanted to wake up at six in the morning and race to get ready so I would beat the rush to work. I wanted to spend the day behind a desk, and to type random data into my computer, and to drink coffee out of a silver Thermos. I wanted to work today, and I knew that it was because today I would spend the day in front of a ceiling-high window, and finally edit something worth writing. Today was also the day I would meet this mysterious new author transferring to The New York Times from 'somewhere in the midwest' as my boss had said. Of course, she could not be more specific. She never was.

I slid my legs over the edge of my bed, and my arms stretched above my head, sending a wonderful tingle down my spine as I yawned. Turning off the alarm clock, I silently crept into the kitchen, hit the button on Mr. Coffee, and slid soundlessly into the bathroom. The soothing heat of the water pounded against me as steam swirled around the shower, fogging up the clear glass door. I suppose that was one of the reasons for the high heat that I preferred, though I knew Alice and Rosalie were still dead asleep, it made me feel more secure with the glass fogged up, preventing me from having to see my naked, wet self in the mirror above the sinks through the glass. Why the owner of the building did not think to put in _frosted_ glass, I did not know.

I lathered in my strawberry scented shampoo, rinsed, and was out of the shower within ten minutes, a personal best. The excitement and anticipation must have inspired my muscles to move more quickly and efficiently than usual, having not tripped over the rug as I usually did. As I stepped in front of my sink, I saw the faded letters that had been drawn on with a finger on the mirror. Recognizing the handwriting belonging to my two best friends, I smiled, and read the note they left for me last night after their showers.

* * *

_Bella-_

_I am so proud of you! You really deserved this promotion! I hope your author is nice, and a guy, and handsome, and available, and not living out of a cardboard box, and is sane..._

_Anyways, have fun today, and I look forward to hearing all about your day!_

_Love and hugs, _

_Alice_

* * *

_Bella,_

_Kick ass today at work, edit like no one else has before! Make money, and show that author what it means to work with Bella Swan! Be good!_

_XOXOXOXOXOXOXO,_

_Rose_

_P.S. Double what Alice wrote!! Yummy!_

* * *

Before the fog faded, I hurried to reply to their 'shower notes', as we called them.

* * *

_R & A,_

_Love you girls! Thank you, and I hope I have a lot of good things to tell you tonight. Even though I doubt the author will even be a guy, no less cute, available, etc, but it never hurts to hope!_

_Anyways, see you tonight! _

_Love Always,_

_Bella_

_P.S. However goes to the market next needs to buy band-aids. I haven't tripped yet, and am beginning to worry. _

* * *

After drawing a smiley face with my finger, I began to dry my hair. I dressed in a cream-colored blouse with black trim and bow in the front that always seemed to mimick my movements in a flattering way, yet was still comfy enough for me not to fidget like I usually did. Slipping on my favorite pair of black slacks and pointed-toe two inch heels that threatened to wobble furiously, I hurried out of the bathroom and filled my Thermos with coffee. I searched for my keys that were, as yesterday, in my purse, and gave Alice a hug before I left.

"Thanks for the shower note, have to go. Love you, bye."

"Huh? Oh, you're welcome. Bye!" Though she was more alert than yesterday, she still had to take a few moments to comprehend what I thanked her for. Nibbling on my granola bar in the short subway ride, I saw the lights flicker a few times. Many things came with the heat, some were sun-bathers, sweat marks, broken air conditioning, high bills, and high electricity usage. One thing was for sure, assuming the stupid Metro did not break down this morning, I planned to hail a cab home tonight. Little was worse than being stuck on a hot Metro train for hours on end. That would certainly kill my first full day of being an editor.

Thankfully, the train rumbled to my stop without delay. I made my way to the glass elevator, and stared at the city below. All too soon, the elevator dinged at the arrival of my floor, and I walked toward the receptionist's desk. She hung up the phone, and I then addressed her.

"Good morning, Gianna. I just wanted to make sure my calls were forwarded to my new _office_." I said, smiling. With the word 'office', she too grinned, and replied.

"Congratulations! I knew you would get it! Have you met the new author yet?"

"No, I don't even know their name yet. Soon enough, though, soon enough." The phone began to ring again, and the frantic look reappeared on her face.

"Sorry I have to take this. Good luck, though! New York Times, this is Gianna." We waved goodbye, and I set my briefcase in my office. Setting up my iPod and the pitiful boxes I called speakers, I clicked on Claire de Lune by Debussy, and sank into my plush chair. Not twenty seconds had passed before the ring of my phone forced me to awaken from my imaginary world of piano keys and stringed instruments swaying in beautiful melodies.

"Bella Swan." I answered.

"Bella, it's Angela."

"Good morning. What can I do for you?"

"Well, I have a bit of bad news. Nothing to worry about though, just come into my office when you've got a chance." Surprisingly, I was not nervous. I had no reason to believe my job was in jeopardy, or that a mistake had been made, probably just a technicality. We hung up, and I walked carefully to her office, being sure to try to keep myself stable in these dangerous shoes that threatened my lack of coordination. I knocked on her open door, and she waved me in as she ended her phone call. I was still in awe at how busy she always was.

"Make yourself comfortable, Bella." I nodded and sat in the same chair that I had this time yesterday, and folded my hands in my lap. "Unfortunately, your new author's flight got cancelled this morning."

"Oh, that's too bad. Did they say when the next flight was?"

"Not that I know of, and it was in an email, not by phone because they have no service, so I can't call them. Oh well. We should not expect them until tomorrow at least."

"Alright. Is there anything I can do in the meantime?" I asked, trying to hide the disappointment in my voice.

"Actually...yes. Since the author will be new to New York City, I thought it would be helpful if you could compile different artistic events, like photo and art galleries, concerts, things like that."

"Sure."

"I had my secretary collect a few magazines for you to start on, just clip out the articles and put them in a folder. Give the author something to look through tomorrow."

"I will start on that now. Thanks, Angela."

"Of course."

"Oh, and Bella?" I stopped at the door and turned on my heel.

"Yes?"

"Whatever you do, don't make this new person sound the least bit interesting to Jessica. She throws a fit when there is new meat around here." I tried desperately to stifle my giggles. I remember how big of an effort she made on my first day just to talk to me, and I am not even that interesting. I could not imagine what she would do if she found out that whoever my new colleague was was as mysterious as he or she is. Upon leaving the office, I stopped at her secretary's desk.

"Hello, Jessica. Angela said she had some magazines for me?"

"Yeah, there right here." Jessica said snidely, and then spun her chair around, putting her back to me.

"Thanks." I said unnecessarily. She had been no part of this, why should I thank her? Oh well, that was just my nature. On the corner of her tiny desk was a stack of at least thirty magazines, ten newspapers, and what looked like a hundred brightly-colored pamphlets. I had my work cut out for me, that was for sure. Because there were no specifications to the articles I was told to clip, the possibility of sore fingers was now an inevitability.

It took me three trips to carry all of the papers to my desk. The first thing I did was organize the stack into three less-threatening piles of newspapers, magazines, and pamphlets. Still, it was intimidating. Eager to procrastinate, I refilled my coffee cup and turned on my favorite playlist on my scratched up iPod nano. Having run out of things to do, I surrendered and grabbed an empty folder from one of my desk drawers. After labelling the folder and sticking on the little white tab, I took out my silver scissors and began cutting and snipping.

I must have seen every recent magazine available at the newsstand. There were many that had nothing that met my criteria, mostly the Cosmopolitans and National Enquirers, but too many of them were so artsy that I kept running back to the ice machine to numb my aching hand. The titles Vogue, People, US, OK!, Star, Marie Claire, O, and even more flashed before my eyes, and three hours had passed before I finished the magazine stack. It was amazing to me how cutting out square, rectangular, and the especially annoying round articles could exhaust and stress a person out. My iPod speakers had died an hour before, and was forced to listen to the radio from my computer.

Not having taken a break in those three hours, I took the time to stretch, crack my neck, and take my lunch break. Expecting to breathe fresh air, I was dissapointed at the soggy heat that filled my lungs once I stepped outside the door. As I walked down to the nearby Quizno's for lunch, my phone buzzed from my sack-like black purse.

"Hello?"

"Bella, this is Angela. I am sorry to bother you on your break, but I just wanted to let you know your author got on a flight and will land sometime tonight. They won't make it to work today, unless by some miracle they get an earlier flight, but they will be here tomorrow."

"Oh good. Gotta love air travel nowadays."

"You know it. I have to go, just wanted to keep you informed."

"Thanks. Bye."

"Bye, Bella." I clicked the end button on my Blackberry, and ordered my sandwich.

One hour and one roast-beef sandwich later, I was back in the glass elevator heading to my office where stacks of articles just begged to be snipped into unrecognizable strips of glossy paper. This time, however, it was packed to the brim with people. I just barely found room to squeeze myself in at the door When I sat back down in my chair, I reached for a Tylenol when the phone began to ring again. Groaning, I answered the phone.

"Bella Swan."

"Bella, baby, it's Mike Newton." What had I done to deserve _this_? I really must have pissed someone off in a past life.

"Oh, hello. What's, uh, up?" I clamped the phone between my face and shoulder and began the monotonous task of flipping through newspapers.

"Well, I have some great news, although I am sure you already know."

"No, what?"

"Well, yours truly just landed a permanent job at none other than the New York Times! Looks like we will be working together!" No! No no no no no no no! No! Mike Newton was the mysterious author? He couldn't be! He was the crappiest writer that ever lived! Or close to it, at least. Seriously, he thought that 'a lot' was one word. He actually argued against me. Worse than that, we went to the same high school. Bleh. Life certainly knew how to push my buttons, that was for damn sure.

"Congratulations. I guess I will see you Monday then."

"Well, more like tomorrow from the looks of it." Oh no, another confirmation.

"Oh, well, see you then."

"You know it! Bye Bella baby." He hung up before I even had time to yell at him. Ew! Mike _Newton_! Why? Why, why, why?! Why did he have to be the new author? Why did I have to be so excited about the mystery, and find out it was Newton? And why, God, why, did he have to call me baby? I was not his baby. One date, and he thinks he owns me! I shuddered at the memory of that atrocious dinner. He was exhibit A to my lack of a love life. I would rather die alone than suffer life with Newton. Gross. Sewers had nothing on his grotesque personality.

Had Angela lost her mind to hire him? There was still a chance he was not the author, I mean he didn't say it or anything, but the implications were enough. Well, there had to be something bad about this job, with all the perks my promotion came with. I decided not to bother Alice or Rose with the news, they would hear my rants tonight, as well as me drawing on his yearbook pictures with Sharpie. I smiled at the thought of drawing on childlike devil horns and round glasses, blacking out his teeth to make him look toothless, drawing on pointy beards...the possibilities of stress-reduction were endless! If only they made a Mike stress doll where you can tear off the limbs held on only by Velcro. It would surely be a bestseller if anyone had met Mike and was mentally sane and aware. Hmm, maybe I could get a patent...

I resumed clipping various rectangles from the newspapers and pamphlets for the rest of the day, taking breaks only to get another cup of coffee, to stretch, and to curse the existance of Newton. Though, when five o'clock rolled around, Angela had called to tell me she had even more papers for me. The stack was larger than the first, perhaps twice the height, and each volume was thicker than the last. How artsy did New York have to be? And why did Angela have to know where to find them all? I felt like stomping my foot and throwing myself into a toddler-worthy tantrum. Instead, I was mature, and called Alice and Rosalie to vent.

"Hello?"

"Hey Rose." I said, my voice drooping like a wilted flower.

"Bella! You sound terrible."

"Thanks. Is Alice there?"

"Yeah."

"Put me on speaker." I heard the click of the receiver, and a cheerful hello from Alice on the other end. "I am going to be a little late tonight. Actually, a lot late. Angela has me clipping out art articles out of this huge stack."

"That sucks."

"Poor thing!" They chimed.

"Thanks. I hope to be home before eight, if it gets later than that I'll call you."

"Alright. Wait, did you see the hunk you are working with?"

"Not exactly, Rose. I didn't see him, but I got a call today that pretty much told me who it is."

"Who? Is he single?"

"Yeah, he's single. He's Newton."

"Newton? _Newton!_" Rosalie seemed pissed.

"As in...Mike? As in, ew, Mike?" Alice confirmed.

"All of the above." I answered to hear numerous 'ews' and various obscenities in the background. "Alright girls, I have to get back to cutting. See you later."

"Okay Bella. Good luck!"

"Bye! And don't worry, we've got wine." Rosalie added.

"Thanks. Bye." I hung up, and continued working into the night. Though my window did not face west, I could still see the orange glow of the sun brighten, then turn to purple, then deepen into black. The clock read five minutes after eight, and I called my friends to tell them of the news. With only a small stack left to sort through and an overflowing trash basket, I gave myself until nine to finish. The hours passed by with longevity I had never felt before. It reminded me of my college days where I would spend entire nights studying for a test, and of those years I spent here before I was promoted, working odd hours to edit pointless stories, and here I was, a permanent editor, still working through the night.

_Alice's shoes, Rosalie's iPod, Alice's shoes, iPod shoes, rent, food, shoes, iPod, food, rent_I told myself. I looked back at the number written on the post it that was stuck on the top rim of my iMac computer monitor that represented my new salary. A brief smile graced my face, and then I continued working faster than before to finish before the clock struck nine.

Sure enough, five minutes after my self-made deadline, I was finished, and packed up my briefcase to go home for the day. Or night, depending on how you looked at it. Either way, it was far too late to just leave the office.

I was the last to leave. The lights had been turned off, and the only sound that echoed through the empty halls were that of a vacuum, and the footsteps of a custodian dressed in a navy blue coverall.

"Goodnight, Miss Swan." He said.

"Night Robert."

"Oh Miss Swan? Tonight is my last night."

"Really?" Not wanting to be rude, I stayed to chat with him for a moment despite the urge I felt to run the opposite way toward the glass elevators. "Why is that?"

"I am getting hired for twice the amount I am paid now at Cosmo."

"Congratulations. We have both been promoted, sort of. Well, it was nice seeing you Robert, but I am late already."

"Of course. Don't let me keep you." Too late, chatty bastard. I wanted to go home, and was silently praying that the elevators would be fast.

"Bye." I nearly jogged to the elevators. Between my purse, my briefcase, and empty Thermos my hands were entirely full, and my eyes were occupied by watching every step I took, making sure not to trip. I was overdue, I had not tripped or fallen the entire day, and something was bound to happen. That was my luck. I got a great promotion, and Newton. I had a day free from clumsiness in heels, and something had to account for that.

In my frayed state of mind, I did not even glance at the man standing at the back of the elevator except for the strange fact that he was carrying a brown bag of groceries without handles in his arms. Seeing that the lobby button was pressed, and glowing brightly with a yellow illumination, I leaned into the side of the elevator and said hello to the stranger without really looking at him. Instead, I looked at the blinking red numbers above the door.

_13...12...11_

Crash. The elevator jerked to a stop, the red digits faded into black, and the city lights around us simultaneously flickered off in blocks. In a matter of mere seconds, New York City had darkened into sheer blackness. Fantastic. I was now stuck in a glass elevator in the middle of a New York summer. Why. That was all that I asked. Why.


	3. Arrivals and Destination

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Twilight or any of the characters.

Elevators, Blackouts, and Strangers

Chapter 3- Arrivals and Destinations

**Edward**

My cell phone buzzed violently on my upside-down trash basket that now served as a nightstand. The vibration echoed through the eerily empty apartment, waking me with a start from the pile of blankets on the cold, cement floor. Moaning in sleep deprivation and overall annoyance, I dismissed the alarm set on the brutally scratched up iPhone and rolled onto the ground beside me, which evidently, was significantly more painful on my sore joints that I had estimated. Stumbling as I pulled myself onto my feet, I raked my hands through my abnormally messy hair and drew back the vertical blinds that hung before the large window that had served as my view for the last four years. This would surely be the last time that I looked out over the streets of Chicago until Christmas when I had promised to pay visit to my parents.

Regrettably, the mere dim glow of the streetlights were not enough to allow my eyes a clear sight of the familiar city where I had lead the entirety of my life. It should be considered a crime to be awake at this hour unless one was still awake from the night before. As I looked at the time in disbelief that read on my phone, I realized that most nightclubs would still be open for another hour, and that the sun would rise in four. 2am. Obscene in every aspect, however it was the only time I could wake while still being on time for my flight that was supposed to leave at half after five. Punctual as I was, I did not even allow myself to hit the snooze button, despite the enormous temptation.

I walked through the eerily empty apartment to the bathroom to shower, not feeling at ease in the silence. Normally, my two roommates would be filling the silence with rustling papers or obscenities being yelled at the TV whenever any sort of sports even was playing. Of course, when we moved to the Big Apple, it would be immensely quieter being that Emmett had decided to rent his own apartment. Not that Jasper and I found it rude, for over the years we learned that he truly did need his own place, preferably with sound-proof walls. Let's just say there were no secrets between the three of us. At least I still had Jasper, someone to keep me calm, or to at least keep me company. I had lived in Chicago all of my life, and it was strange to know that I might actually get to meet _new_ people. It was just as well; I had grown tired of the people I surrounded myself with and had dated all the girls that were not fatal to the eyes and knew how to spell their own name. Needless to say I desperately hoped that the inhabitants of New York City where of average IQ.

The last two weeks passed with loneliness, partially because Jasper and Emmett, my two sometimes idiotic brothers, left two weeks ago to set up the apartments we would spend our lives in while I finished up the last two weeks of my job. Apparently my boss 'lost' my two weeks' notice that would have ended the day that Jasper bought out plane tickets for, but with the irony of life itself, I was forced to write a new one and live in a skeleton dwelling for fourteen cold, hard days. Everything had already been driven to New York by Emmett when they were forced to sell back my ticket, he came up with the idea of driving the rented moving truck to the city. The tea-green suede couch that served as a bed as well had been towed away, leaving behind a particularly clean spot in the carpet. For years that futon had served as Emmett's drop cloth during football games, and had to suffer numerous beer spills and having Cheetos brutally squished into the soft fabric. Remarkably, it survived, and was yet to be stained. Even though his athletic rants aggravated me immensely, now that they were gone I knew part of me would miss them. It was just the sort of annoyance that meant home, that meant security, and a stress-relieving punch to an arm.

As my fingers lathered the sudsy solution of shampoo through my strangely colored hair, I dreamed of the opportunities that awaited me amongst the sparkling skyscrapers. Not that Chicago did not have its share of towering glass buildings, but the Sears tower had nothing on the Chrysler's layered metallic beauty, the Cubs were nothing compared to the iconic Yankee pinstripes, and the windy city was nothing compared to the city that never slept. Of course, since I was reduced to sleeping on quilts piled on the cement floor, I had hardly slept at all in some sort of ironic preparation. Of course, Em already had a list of clubs to go to and places to see. The only club I wanted to go, of course, was the one I envisioned in my mind. For years I collected my pitiful savings in hopes of one day opening a piano bar that reeked with class, where dress codes were respectfully enforced and there was no forceful body-grinding. I would be lying if it sometimes were enjoyable, but modern dancing had its place, as did the classy keys of a piano.

Everywhere else in comparison to my dream seemed dull, and uneventful. He told me that I was being picky, but I told myself that was what made things better, choosing the best of things before yours and adding in something new for a unique touch. It was all do-able, except for no space, no liscences, and no funds. This thought depressed me whenever it recalled itself into my memory, and I quickly banished it away. I dried myself off, and slid into a comfortable pair of black jeans, and pulled a white and silver shirt over my head. Shaking the water from my hair, I pulled on my black blazer and rolled my navy blue suitcase out of the closet. I stuffed the clothes I slept in, and considered the cheap blankets a 'donation' to the landlord.

I was ready to walk out the creaking door when I had the sudden urge to look back upon the vacant space. So many memories were rooted here, so many years of living our lives here. There had been some pretty great moments here, and though I was excited to journey to New York, there would always be a part of me, no matter how small, that missed this place. It was the end of an era, and I could never get it back. All I could do was to make the next part of my life even better.

I smiled softly to myself, and shut the door behind me, as I did metaphorically with turning my back on Chicago, and my childhood. I was a man now, at twenty four, and it was finally time that I freed myself from childhood. I knew Jasper would kill me for this later, but it was time that I rolled with Emmett for a while. I had spent years studying and going through hours of homework without taking the time to smell the roses, and it was time that I began living.

The cab driver yawned subtly as he yanked my suitcase into the trunk, and I slid into the backseat. The drive to the airport was surreal; the shadows and shapes of Chicago bending, twisting, and distorting the city I spent the entirety of my life. I knew I would miss it, but the allure of something new drew me from the security of the known and propelled me to what could be. As I was thinking this, the silver Blackberry in my pocket began to vibrate violently. How in their right mind would be up at two-thirty in the morning? Well, Jasper and Emmett had an hour or two later of a time difference...so five am? The hell?

"Hello?"

"Edward, my man." A slurred, drunken voice came on the other end of the line.

"Jasper, give the phone to Emmett."

"What? I'm not good enough? Why d'you want to talk to him anyway..."

"Just do it Jazz." I heard a crackling noise, and then another voice.

"EMMETT! What the hell did you do to Jazz?"

"Nothing. Always so presumptuous."

"EMMETT!"

"Okay okay. Calm down before you pop an artery. We just went out and had some fun last night."

"You know there are other ways to have fun besides getting Jasper drunk. Just tell me you kept an eye on him?" Leaning my head on my hand, stress overwhelmed me. Emmett apparently thought Jasper was hilarious after he had one too many, while I tried to save my friend from embarrassment, he would often hold bets to see how many drinks it would take him to start dancing on tables. Usually I was able to keep him on the floor, even in one situation having to force shots down his throat so he would pass out rather than humiliate himself to the point where he would refuse to leave the apartment for weeks. Now however, in my absence he had been taken advantage of. I made a mental note to punch Em in the shoulder when I saw him.

"Oh come on, there was nothing on TV, and he won't even remember what he did with all those shots he took..."

"That much? God, please never let you have kids."

"Lighten up Eddie."

"Not my name."

"Eddie Eddie Eddie Eddie Eddie."

"I'm hanging up now."

"Wait, the drunken idiot wants to talk to you." I decided to ignore that.

"Jasper? Where are you guys?"

"Oh- don't worry, we're at my apartment, or Emmett's...well, we're somewhere."

"Just do me a favor, drink some water, get some sleep, and whatever Emmett tells you to do, do the opposite."

"Gotcha. Bye Edward."

"Go to sleep. Bye." Clicking the end button, I sank back into the black leather seat and watched as the airport came into view.

The stresses of air travel were greatly lessened with the odd hour, and it seemed as if I were one of, if not the only person there. I passed the time until the departure time crept slowly closer to the present by drumming my fingers against a table in the Air Bar, sipping my coffee that tasted like stale ashes. The hands of the clock were static, and seemed as though it were taunting me. _Tick tick tick._I heard the torturous sound, yet the black metallic hands seemed as though they were static, literally frozen in time while my mind wandered the space. The dim lights reflected like glowing orbs in the marble floors of the terminal, and the only sounds that could be heard were the bubbling of coffee machines, and of the yawns from the stranded travelers and minimal employees. Within minutes of sitting in this dismally dull place plagued by insomnia and weariness as well as my own nervousness

Determined to retain my sanity, I pulled out my iPod and stuck in the iconic white headphones. Indecisiveness residing in my scattered mind, I surrendered and swiveled the wheel and clicked on 'shuffle'. The first song to blare through my ears was Numb by Linking Park, and at any other time would have distracted me. Emmett had loaded it to my MP3 and forced me to listen to it. Though it was not usually my style, my ears picked up the gentle, haunting rhythm of minor chords that added a depth to the otherwise superficial music. Whenever I listened to their songs I always picked out a new melody I had not noticed before, or some sort of new meaning or understanding to the lyrics. Any other day this would have been enough to keep me occupied, only I never was able to match the lyrics to my own life, and that sent my stomach into a contorting spasm, knowing that their sometimes depressing meanings applied to me.

Upon this realization, I quickly hit the skip button on the white wheel. After switching through what must have been a hundred songs, I settled on an old Green Day album. Completely meaningless, and all about teen rebellion and what is considered to be the modern society. Perfect.

Hours later, my hand was numb from my head resting on it, and I looked up to see the terminal slowly beginning to liven with a flood of travelers entering their gates. As I took out the headphones, an announcer's voice rang out the speakers.

"Good morning Delta Airline flyers, the five-thirty flight to La Guardia airport will be boarding in a few minutes. Thank you."

The announcement ended with a click, and I hastily rolled my suitcase through the echoing terminal. Holding my first class ticket in my teeth as I slung my laptop case over my shoulder, I must have looked absolutely frazzled. And I was, though more so mentally than the physical disarray that differed from my usually calm demeanor. Rarely was I the one to panic. That was Jasper's trait. Of course, he was not out of line for doing so, for his past was something I could not fathom, and what little I knew of it, I was amazed at how well he coped. He was normal, with only a few quirks, claustrophobia and his inability to handle liquor.

However, this only made Jazz the more intruiging. Behind his eyes there was a sublte sense of tradgedy in his past, but the concentration in his gazes astounded me. I always wondered what it would be to delve inside his mind, for one day to hear his thoughts. Sadly, that would never happen, and all I would have would be to guess, and revel in the mystery. I suppose that only added to his charisma, the sense that he had lived life so young, and had this general understanding of the world. Not that this made him skilled in living life, but he did know how it worked, and more importantly, that it could not be fooled, and fates can be altered, but fate is inevitable.

I handed the ticket with tiny bite marks in the side from my teeth to the flight attendant, who simply smiled and accepted it. She must have not been more than five years older than I, with soft, naturally tan skin and dirty blonde hair. Walking through the tunnel toward the door in the side of the humming plane, two more Delta attendants greeted me with false and overly-practiced smiles and showed me to my seat. The leather reclining, almost sofa-like chairs were plush with light blue leather worn from previous fliers. A fresh, white pillow and dark blue blanket were folded inside plastic sitting on my seat, and magazine in the pocket of the seat before me instructed the technology-deficient travelers on how to comprehend the simple buttons for adjusting the seat. I sank into the plush confines, pulled out my iPod, and for the first time that morning, sank into the depths of comfort. That was when the pilot came on the speaker.

"Good evening, folks, I am sorry to tell you that we are experiencing some technical difficulty and cannot complete the flight as planned. The customer representatives will issue you a new flight ticket. Thank you for choosing Delta, and have a great day."

A series of groans came from both the first class cabin and the loading passengers behind us. Great. Utterly fantastic. If there was one thing I hated more than Emmett drinking Jasper to death, or more realistically embarrassment, it was delays. Not only in airports, but for everything else as well. I was a patient man, but some things still got to me. Like this. It was bad enough that I was going to be late for my first day of work, but now it looked as if I might not get there at all.

Seeing it was of decent time in New York, I called my boss and sat myself back at the Sky Bar. This time, I need something a little more potent than Coke. This was a tequila moment.

My face contorted into a cringe as I downed two shots, and then cut myself off. I had hours to wait for the next flight, ten o' clock, to be specific. That would bring me to New York around two or three in the afternoon, perhaps I could at least show my face before everyone left for the day. That would be my goal, to at least see the building I would work in no matter how late it got. Well, at least until midnight. That I could allow myself.

The next hours were spent counting ceiling tiles, and burning my iPod down to minimum battery level. I called Emmett and Jasper, twice actually, pathetically, and was hung up on the second time claiming they both had lives. I doubted it. Most likely they were trying to find a place to hang a hammock in Em's apartment. Strange as it was, it was his dream to have a hammock in New York. That was Emmett, but at least it was interesting. Between the three of us, there was never a dull moment. Maybe this was why I was nearly collapsing into a coma from boredom. They annoyed me, but I missed them.

Hours later, I had yet to board another plane when it was already full from a 'computer error'. I thought it was more of a real estate tycoon error that bumped me to yet another late flight. I would have to wait again. I feared for my sanity as I realized that I would arrive in the Big Apple at seven in the evening, and make it to my office building around eight. What a day. What an awful, early in the morning, late twice day.

Finally, I was seated in yet another 747 plane. I did not settle in, however, until the plane was high enough in the atmosphere where cars on the lightening freeway were visable. When the city came more clearly into view, I ordered a ginger-ale, remembering the alcohol I consumed in the bar in the terminal. Finally, I drifted off into sleep, making those lengthy hours into a merely sufficient nap. I had fallen asleep gazing at the city that was the home of my childhood, and awoke in the city that never sleeps. I awoke in my future.

New York was even grander than I imagined, but it passed me by in a glaze of insomnia and general frustration. I hailed a cab, and showed the driver the address of my office building written on the post it note that was stuck to the one that read my home address. We sped through the illuminated city, weaving through skyscrapers and iconic facades seen by me only in photography books and travel brochures. People walked speedily toward their destinations, and all seemed to have a place to go, somewhere to be, people to meet, things I would not have outside of work for a long time. Cell phones were raised to their ears, and high heels clacked on the sidewalk, echoing between the glassy buildings.

We passed the folded metal of the Chrysler building, the brilliantly lit advertisements in Times Square, and south we drove toward the business district. We passed Wall Street, the Stock Market, and finally, around eight fifteen, we arrived at the office. I handed the driver a tip, and hopped out onto the curb with my suitcase. There before me loomed my financial future. Or at least, it was a building the ill-humoured cab driver took me to.

I entered the marble lobby, searching for any logo of my new cooperation that I worked for, but found only haziness in my fatigue. I took the glass elevator up to my floor, and wandered around the dimly-lit office to find where I would work for the next however many years. An empty desk was in place, as well as empty file cabinets and two walls that were pure glass. I was not even twenty five yet, and already I had a corner office. That of course, brightened my mood immediately. As I took in the small, yet significant space, I came to the realization that this was all worth it, that the stress of moving, all of it, and this new life could be the best thing to ever happen to me. And if it were not, I would make it so. No more fear, no more inhibition, I was making the best of this, by making it all worth while.

After having seen my new surroundings and feeling satisfied with myself, I walked back toward the glass elevator as one of the custodians began to vacuum. I could have sworn I heard papers rustling in another room, but it easily could have been my imagination. I rode the elevator down to the lobby, and walked out into the steamy, New York air. Remembering a small market a few streets away, I walked down the still busy streets westward from the building.

Once inside, I picked up a basket and filed it with the basic necessities Jasper would not have thought of to buy, like beer, eggs, and bake-able pizzas. It was then that I remembered my suitcase was in the office. Rolling my eyes at my stupidity, I decided to leave it there until tomorrow, and survive on the clothes Emmett and Jasper brought in the storage unit. Hailing another yellow cab, I handed the driver the post it note that read my apartment's address.

"You sure?" The man said. Ironically it was the same man as before. Fantastic.

"Uh, I think I know where I live, thank you very much." I said snidely. I hated being second guessed.

"Whatever you say, pal." He agreed with rudeness. It seemed this stereotype was true, and I noted to judge if the cab drivers were worse than the lunatics in the subway. I doubted they were worthy of comparison; two equal horrors. It seemed like he only turned a few corners until we arrived at a similar, glass-paned building. Perhaps I had fallen asleep again. Again, I paid the driver and took the elevator up into the building when a strange sense of deja-vu hit me. It couldn't be the same glass elevator...could it? Upon further observation, I could see that it was.

Frustration overwhelmed me, and I began to smack my head on the side of the glass, as if I could knock out the embarresment. As if. It was worser still, however, for the elevator stopped to allow another person to enter.

The golden door parted, and in walked one of the most intriguingly beautiful women I had ever seen. Black, thick rimmed glasses hung on her nose as she looked down at the ground, balancing various stacks and purses and such. Her clothes were classy and respectable, and her dark, wavy hair was pulled into a bun. Though she never even looked at me, I could already see she had the most magnificent, chocolate brown eyes. She turned around to face the door, and silence filled the space as we descended.

Of course, the descent did not continue. Between floors, the glass elevator jarred to a halt as New York became a deep, pit of satiny black. I was stuck. _We_ were stuck _together_. This was going to be awkward. Or maybe I could take advantage of the situation...


	4. Heat of the City

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Twilight or any of the characters.

**Author's Note:**In the last chapter I made the mistake of giving Edward an iPhone and then a Blackberry. Please disregard this error, Edward has the iPhone, and Bella is the one with the silver Blackberry. Also, please check my profile for news about stories as well as more accurate story updates. Also, I am celebrating, because this is the longest chapter I have ever written for any of my stories, totalling at 6,700 words. Enjoy!

Elevators, Blackouts, and Strangers

Chapter 4- Heat of the City

**Bella**

As the entire city darkened into sheer blackness with the exception of a few, scattered lights kept lit by emergency generators, the light inside the elevator was minimal. I could hear the rustling of the man's brown, paper bag, and his gentle breathing. Still facing the door, I tried to pry open the doors with my fingertips. No such luck. The thick doors would no budge, and even though I was not the most muscular of women I had a feeling that no one could open the golden doors. I sighed in frustration, and already felt the heat coming through the walls. I clicked a button on my phone, and a soft blue light spilled onto the tiny space.

"Shoot, no signal." I said aloud. I turned around to face the man behind me, and could vaguely see his outline as he shifted his weight from the rail onto his feet. He looked to be about five foot eleven, and slender. I could barely make out his tousled hair that stood at strange angles above his head, and then looked back at my phone as I held it higher above my head, hoping to retrieve enough of a signal to call Alice or Rosalie. Alice! She had to work late tonight as well, hopefully she hailed a cab and could walk home. And Rosalie! How would she function without electricity? How would I function without being able to watch the calamity?

"Crap, me either." The man responded. His voice rang with the notes sung by angels. Though it was unreasonable to think that the mere sound of a voice could affect someone so strongly, my heart gave a flustered jolt. Quickly, and effectively, I calmed myself. After restoring my heart to its normal rhythm, a soft humming resounded through the space. Maybe I could get out of here after all...Unfortunately, the sound was not of electricity returning to the city, but was instead the generator groaning to life. When the angry buzz stopped, two dim, yellow lights spread a faint glow from the ceiling of the elevator, making the darkness more faint, and allowing me to see the hand in front of my face.

It was then that I turned once more to look at the mysterious man behind me. This time, my heart did not stop, but instead began to race at such a pace I worried I could collapse into cardiac arrest right then and there. He wore a pair of faded black jeans low on his hips, and what looked to be a white and silver shirt left little of his muscles to the imagination. A black blazer hung over his shoulders, and contrasted greatly with his somewhat pale skin. Bronze hair sat in styled array upon his head, and the most magnificent pair of light green eyes were brought from the phone he held to mine that were in awe of his form. The sheer vivacity of those sparkling orbs was something seen only in colored contact lenses, or magazine spreads; like the color of the fleshy inside of a honey-dew melon. The intensity between our met gaze made me never want to look away, but it could not hold back the blood from seeping into my heated cheeks.

Hoping with all my might that there was not light enough to see my fluster, I set my things down and slid to the floor to rest my aching feet. Thankfully, I had worn pants, and did not have to worry about crossing my legs, and was at freedom to sit on the cool marble floor however I pleased. The quiet man still stood where he had been, his groceries still in his arms, all that had changed was a slight, crooked smile appeared on his face as he looked at me.

"Chances are we will be here for a while. We might as well make ourselves comfortable." He laughed, and set his groceries on the floor beside him, and began to sit.

"Do these sorts of things happen here often?" He asked me, one of the light flickering above him, only allowing me the glorious sight of him for milliseconds at a time, and after each flicker of light he looked more handsome than before. His voice rang with beauty and the hint of a chuckle, and all the while he kept his glistening eyes on me.

"No, but when they do, they last for hours. I guess you're not from around here?" I asked him, being strangely open. Perhaps it was the situation, or that we were both trapped with complete strangers, but for whatever reason, he seemed completely comfortable. He looked like someone who rarely got truly upset without reason.

"No, I just moved here today, actually." He looked at me, and tilted his head slowly to the side. "But neither are you."

"What?" I asked, my voice quiet and slow. How did he know I had only lived here for six years? Did we know each other in Forks? I doubted it, his was not a face that could be forgotten.

"I mean, you have been here for a while now, but you weren't raised here." He said this with confidence, but with a hint of risking impoliteness. How did he know so much about me? Could I be faced with a stalker? No, I was not the sort of girl who was stalked. And he was not the sort of man who needed to; he probably had many of his own.

"How--how did you know that?" I asked, not hiding how stunned I truly was.

"I can tell. First, don't have a New York accent. Second, the first thing you did was to take off your shoes, meaning that you are not completely used to heels yet, while I see New Yorkers walk in stilettos everyday without even the slightest pain. Also, your clothes. They don't seem like they are what you would choose, like you were either compelled to wear them, or adapted. Though you look comfortable, indicating you are used to them, they do not seem like they fit your personality."

"You could tell by all of that?" I asked. Were phsycics real, and he one of them? He had to have been some sort of mind reader, how could he know this with those insignificant details? The man laughed at my response, and lowered his head to the floor as he did.

"No. You spoke to me first when we got stuck, and you were friendly. You are definitely not from New York."

"That was all?" Suddenly, I was dissapointed for some reason. I knew it could not have been possible for him to identify me so quickly, but why did I have my hopes up that he could? Wasn't it my goal for me not to be seen through?

"Yes." He answered.

"But you were right."

"Yes, but that was because..." He said, sounding confused.

"No, I mean, about the other stuff. I hate heels, and my friends shop for me." Our eyes locked on the , other's and silence filled the elevator. The flickering light ceased, and left half the room in darkness, while the other threatened to extinguish as well.

"I think I have some emergency candles here..." The man said as he rifled through his grocery bag. I could not see his other movements until he flicked on his lighter and touched the flame to the white, flat-bottomed candles. He expertly melted the bottom of the wax, and stuck them onto the floor, holding them upward as the wax hardened. He placed about ten candles throughout the elevator, making a luminescent glow that reflected in the glass. The scene was painfully romantic, though I repeated to myself it was only for lighting. As the heat began to intensify, this time literally and not metaphorically, I let my hair down and then swept it back up with my fingers, and holding it securely in a ponytail with a hair tie. Folding my glasses, I snapped them into a case and took out an empty folder to fan myself with. Bringing my knees to my chest, my mind began to come up with absurd explanations for why this incredibly beautiful man was carrying groceries in an office building.

"So...where did you move here from?" I asked, trying to lighten the mood, and also trying to make conversation with the man. I would give anything to hear his voice again.

"Chicago. Have you ever been there?" He said. At least it seemed as if he wanted to talk to me too, or else he would have only given the classic I-am-really-not-into-you-one-word-answer. It was something that Alice, Rosalie and I practiced at least a couple times a week. Of course, none of them were nearly as good looking as he, in fact most of them were balding, middle-aged married guys we worked with. The mere thought made my stomach turn, though it was not from the stereotypical man who hite on us, it was that of Newton. Bleh, Mike Newton. Again, I shuddered at the thought of him being the new author.

"No, but I hear the pizza is pretty good." He laughed the way he did before, by tilting his head to the floor and shutting his eyes so they crinkled slightly at the ends. The glowing lights of the candles threw shadows below his cheekbones and above his eyes, giving him a sort of dangerous, mysterious look as they had in the films of the 1920's, and this contrasted with his beaming smile to create a man who would soon become the envy of the hottest actors and Abercrombie models everywhere. I had never seen someone so attractive in sight or sound, and especially someone like him who was interested in what _I_ had to say. This had to have been a dream; had I fallen asleep on my pile of clip-outs on my desk? Rose and Alice were going to kill me for falling asleep at the office again...but if I could dream about _him_, they would just have to deal with it.

"It is, but after a while you need a change from deep to flat." Ah, a New York pizza joke. He shared the same terrible sense of humor that I did, only it seemed like there was a metaphor for me to fish out...

"Are you saying our pizza is shallow?"

"More shallow than the depth of Chicago pizza."

"Maybe appearances are deceiving." I continued playfully. He tilted his head, still smiling, obviously enjoying the game. Ever so mysteriously, and somewhat confused, he answered.

"I believe they are pretty straight forward, one is shallow, the other deep."

"But Chicago pizza is only deep because of the crust. All crusts taste the same, and all it does it make it taller. Our pizza only has room for the real ingredients, and is not afraid to cover it up." The man looked thoughtful for a moment, and responded.

"I think I am going to like this new pizza." Now was the time I really wished this was in fact a metaphor, and that I had interpreted it correctly. I began to blush furiously, and prayed that candlelight was not enough to have it be seen. After a minute or two, the silence was again, broken. "How long have you lived in New York?"

"Six years. I went to NYU, and interned for four years at a newspaper." I answered, careful not to give away too much personal information. Gorgeous as he was, he was still a stranger. What if I could change that?

"NYU, impressive. I am a Northwestern graduate, and have just been transferred to New York from my last job at a magazine."

"Northwestern, not bad either. I applied there, actually."

"Really? Did you get accepted?"

"Yeah, but my two friends were headed to the fashion institute, and I wanted to stay with them."

"I know how you feel. I have some family up here, and to be honest I don't know what I would do without them. When I left Chicago, I left behind almost all of my college friends, and my parents. My mom already misses me, and she cried last time I saw her." He admitted, showing a hint of guilt at leaving all of those people

"What's wrong? Late for something?" I asked.

"No, ugh Jasper..." He murmured, his speech trailing off into his thoughts. "It's his first time on the subway today, and he's probably stuck on it right now."

"Is Jasper your son?" Of course, someone like him had to be married. He did not look much older than me, but his good genes probably were at fault for that, and he was definitely old enough to have a kid. Damn, all the good ones are taken. Instead, he did something I never would have guessed. He burst into laughter that shook his entire body, and the magical sound echoed through the elevator. I could not help but smile.

"It seems that way, doesn't it? No, he is my twenty eight-year old brother."

"Oh," I said between laughs. "Sorry."

"Don't be. He can be a real baby sometimes. Our other brother forced him on the subway today, trying to cure his claustrophobia. He's really gonna kill us now." A hint of a chuckle was in his voice.

"One of my friends should be in a cab right now, poor thing."

"Am I right to assume that we are the adults in the group?" He asked with a grin.

"Definitely." I answered.

"How old do you think I am?" The man asked after a few seconds' silence.

"Hm?" I asked, avoiding the question.

"You think I am old enough to have a son?"

"Oh," I felt myself becoming flustered, and raked my hands through my tied up hair. I fanned myself a few times with the folder as the heat spiked to about eighty-five degrees, making me begin to sweat. "I just thought..." Not be able to spit out the words, I trailed off, hoping he would be a good guesser.

"You thought that I would be married?"

"Yes." I admitted with shame in my voice.

"No, I am single, and have never been married, or had a kid. I am only twenty six."

"Ah."

"So what about you? Boyfriend?" The man asked me with a slyness that made my heart melt into a puddle of worthless goo.

"Me? No, I don't have a boyfriend."

"Husband? Kid?" He asked me, making me laugh.

"No, none of that either. I am only twenty six and a half." I replied, taking the words from his mouth.

"Why?" He asked me.

"Why what?"

"Why are you single?"

"Why is the sky blue?"

"Because it reflects off the ocean. You are avoiding the question."

"Don't I have the right? Fifth amendment." I said with a smirk. He rolled his eyes, and pressed on.

"Do you know the true meaning of the fifth amendment?"

"Yes, it means that you don't have to answer questions when you don't want to."

"Close, but not quite. It means you don't have to answer any questions that might incriminate you."

"I see."

"So what is it you are afraid of being incarcerated for?"

"Nothing. I am a good citizen."

"Then what are you afraid to admit if you have done nothing wrong?" The green-eyed man's voice lowered, creating a silky, sexy tone that seemed to roll off of his tongue.

"I am not."

"If you were not afraid you would have answered."

"Maybe it is not because I am afraid, but because we are total strangers."

"Perhaps that is the very reason why you _should_ tell me." I cocked my head to the side in confusion. "We don't know each other, and will never see each other again after this, so what is the harm?" He did have a point, though my heart sank at this being our last time meeting.

"In a nut shell?"

"Sure."

"Because the men here are crap, and the ones that aren't crap aren't single. And the ones that aren't crap, and aren't single aren't interested in me." At the end of this statement, my voice lowered into a dismal tone, and I feared this would scream desperate, but this man did not seem the sort to judge. Or at least not the sort to judge and be wrong. Maybe the latter was what intimidated me most.

"I doubt that."

"Doubt what? That men are crap? Well, you are a little biased there..." I loved that I now possessed the ability to make him laugh whenever I wanted. It was like a dog being able to ration his own food; utterly useless, yet so alluring to my taste buds.

"I doubt that those sorts of men you speak of aren't interested in you."

"Why is that?"

"Do you consider me to be one of those men?" Blushing, my eyes fell to the floor. This was not something I wanted to answer, or could answer with my dignity still intact. "Come on, you know I am going to make you answer it. No need to be embarrassed." He looked into my eyes from under his long lashes, and tilted his head to be level with the floor, making the candlelight flicker beautifully on his face. God help me!

"Yes." I said meekly.

"Then you are wrong." I knew it. Wrong? About what? That he was single? I knew it.

"About?"

"I find you very interesting."

"Why?" I asked in disbelief. Interesting because I was the only female trapped with him in an empty elevator? For all I knew he could be married, and he was just trying to take advantage of the situation.

"You really don't know?" I shook my head. He scooted around the elevator from where he sat opposite me, and sat close to my side. He gazed into my eyes, enchanting me with the sparkling glow in his green orbs that did not originate from the candles. This sort of light came from within. "Most girls with your fair skin would try to bleach their hair blonde, and while some look good, some look terrible. You have kept your hair, as you should. You dress beautifully, yet you wear reading glasses that you don't even need at your young age. You worry about your coordination from what I could see of you coming into the elevator, and are embarrassed by it, but you do not try to correct it. You don't try to change yourself, which is in this case one of the things that makes you beautiful, and all the more alluring."

"Who are you?" I breathed as our faces leaned nearly inches apart.

"No one you've heard of."

"How is it that you are such a gentlemen?" I asked as our shoulders touched while we leaned against the glass.

"I haven't a clue in this day and age. How is it that you allow others to depend on you when you have no one to depend on yourself?"

"It is my nature." I answered, not surprised by his insight. He knew enough about my character that I could almost pick out the details that led him to this explanation.

"Is that all?"

"No, but you already know the answer. You know everything." He laughed.

"Not everything. I don't know why I was lucky enough to be trapped with you and not some physco." He had made me laugh as I did him, and I enjoyed it almost as much.

Minutes passed where we said nothing, and we shifted in with the stiffness of our joints.

"You thirsty?" He asked me.

"Sure, what do you have?"

"Let's see." He pulled the brown bag from across the room and dug through it, pulling out what would soon be rotten eggs, beer, two bottles of red wine, and various other random items. "Hmm, you look too classy to be a Bud girl...care for a bottle?" I giggled.

"You don't have any glasses in your pockets, do you?"

"No," He rifled through the bag again. "but I have straws and tape. About two will do..."

"Too classy for Budweiser but tacky enough to drink from red wine bottles with straws taped together?"

"Not tacky, innovative. And besides, they are bendy straws."

"Well, bendy straws make all the difference." I added coyly.

"They certainly do."

"What about a corkscrew?"

"No need, I am a cheapskate." With that, he gave the neck of the bottle a quick twist, and the cap spun off into his palm.

"What is your name?"

"Edward. And yours?"

"Bella."

"Bella...fits."

"Well, Edward, you are making yourself into quite the sophisticate."

"Hey, I am the only one in here with drinks, you should be nice to me." He said with a laugh.

"You wouldn't dare deprive a woman of alcohol...isn't that the opposite of what men want?" I gave him a light smack on the arm. Edward chuckled, and handed me an open bottle with two straws taped together stuck inside. He did the same with his, and we clacked the tops together, and said cheers in all the languages we knew.

"Cheers." I started.

"Salute." Edward replied in Italian.

"Prost." I said with a pitiful German accent.

"Kampai." He replied in Japanese.

"Skol." Edward raised an eyebrow. "Danish."

"Ah. Nostrov. Chezc Republic."

"Nostrovia. Russian." Edward looked thoughtful for a moment, picking through various languages I was sure.

"Touche." He said as he raised his glass-er, bottle to me.

"French." I replied. "So, how is it someone born after 1950 named Edward?"

"Very funny."

"No, I like it. It suites you. It is just uncommon, that's all."

"My father's name. A family name, actually. How is it that you are named Bella?"

"It's short for Isabella." He scrunched his nose slightly, and took a sip.

"You look more like a Bella."

"And what do Bella's look like?"

"I have never met any other Bellas before." My lips sucked on the straw when he continued. "They look absolutely beautiful." I sipped longer than I had planned, trying to think of what to say, though the alcohol would surely make matters worse. We sat in content silence, neither of our lips leaving our bottles of wine. This time, I was the one who interrupted the silence.

"It's too quiet."

"It is? Then those honking noises in my head must be an indication of the need of a CAT scan..." Again he made me laugh. Did he enjoy it as much as I did?

"It is quiet for New York. The noise took a while to get used to, and now I can't stand dead silence."

"I would offer my iPod, but I drained it this morning." As he said this I dug out my iPod and pitiful speakers. "I am not sure if they work, but we can give it a try."

"Do you mind?" Edward asked me with his palm stretched out for the MP3 player. I handed it to him, and wondered what he would select. He plugged it into the speakers, which remarkably under his touch, worked. The first song to come through was Starlight by Muse. He bobbed his head in acceptance, and I felt my foot tapping against the air before me.

"Interesting choice." The lyrics rang through my head, making me blush.

_Far away, this ship has taken me far away_

_far away from the memories of the people who care if I live or die_

_This starlight, I will be tasting the starlight_

_until the end of my life_

_I don't know if it's worth it anymore_

_hold you in my arms_

_I just wanted to hold _

_you in my arms_

_I just wanted to hold_

_My life, you electrify my life_

_let's conspire to re-ignite_

_all the souls that would die just to feel alive_

_I'll never let you go_

_as long as you promise not to fade away_

_never fade away_

"Not mine, I put it on shuffle." Ah, irony.

_And our hopes and expectations,_

_black holes and revelations_

_And our hopes and expectations,_

_black holes and revelations_

_hold you in my arms_

_I just wanted to hold _

_you in my arms_

_I just wanted to hold_

_Far away, this ship has taken me far away_

_away from the memories of the people who care if I live or die_

_and I'll never let you go_

_if you promise not to fade away_

_never fade away_

_and our hopes and expectations_

_black holes and revelations_

_and our hopes and expectations_

_black holes and revelations_

_hold you in my arms_

_I just wanted to hold _

_you in my arms_

_I just wanted to hold_

How I wanted to hold Edward in my arms! I told myself not to think about that, and luckily just before I would physically have to restrain myself, the song ended, and another was selected. The rhythmic melodies of piano keys echoed through the elevator, instantly calming my heart to its natural rhythm.

"You like Debussy?"

"You know him?"

"Claire de Lune, of course, it's a classic. Huh."

"Huh, what?"

"I just didn't peg you for someone who was a fan of the classics." Edward answered as he raised one of his knees to his chest, and wrapped his arms around it.

"I didn't peg you for someone who pegs people. You just know them before you even talk to them." I stated matter of factly.

"Is that so? I am just perceptive, but so are you."

"How would you know? I don't know anything about you that you have not told me."

"Give it a try." He urged me. Reluctantly I gave in.

"Well, give me a minute to think." It was a fantastic excuse to look him up and down, taking in every fold of his clothing, every ridge of muscle visible underneath them, the way his arms were long and relaxed, how his legs were tall and placed like a model's. The way his hair was tousled and strands hung over his ears and were swept away from the melon-colored eyes. I looked deep into the frigid green, delving into his soul through their cores, and though all I had been concentrating on were his looks, I was upon the answer.

"You were popular in high school, but you never knew it because your intelligence intimidated people, and only when you were in college with the other brainiacs who were in what people considered to be your social class did you feel you could open up because people actually talked to you. You feel guilty about leaving your mom because you are a caring individual, not a mama's boy. You like Debussy and are not afraid to admit it because you know he is talented, maybe on another level if you are a musician." I pointed to his fingers, the tips of which were calloused with years of playing what I assumed to be the piano. "You are truly a gentlemen, and you date, but never find anyone who you really connect with, which frustrates you. You could have any woman you want, except the one you need."

Edward's eyes widened with my realization that was I was right. After he absorbed the information, a crooked smile graced his lips.

"Very good. We have something else in common." A song by Linkin Park seared the air, erasing the awkwardness. Edward clicked the next button for a song that was unfamiliar to me to blare through the elevator.

_This was never the way I planned, _

_Not my intention_

_I got so many drink in hand_

_Lost my discretion_

_It's not what I'm used to_

_Just wanna try you on_

_I'm curious for you, caught my attention_

_I kissed a girl and I liked it_

_The taste of her cherry chap stick..._

"Ooo, very interesting." He said with a sexy smirk and dramatic voice. A cardiologist would revel in my current condition.

"Shut up." I said. "My roommate put this on."

"Sure, sure."

"I mean it!" I hit him on the arm again, softly though.

"You don't have to tell me, I know you well enough. You like it enough to keep it though."

"Okay, so it's catchy. But don't be fantasizing or anything, I don't go that way. Rosalie has a sense of humor."

"Who?"

"Oh, my roommates, Rosalie and Alice. I love them, but they are pushy."

"Sounds like Emmett. He moved up here with me, but he has his own apartment. Jasper, who you have heard of, is my roommate now. He is rational, but strange." I giggled at the memory of mistaking someone two years older than Edward being his son.

"Yeah, Rosalie is sweet, but she says what she thinks. She forces me to do things I never would do normally, and mostly I am grateful for that. And Alice, well, I am her perpetual Barbie doll."

"I knew it!" He exclaimed.

"She's a fashion designer, she can't help it."

"Yeah, Emmett is...well, he's just an idiot. There is no excuse for him."

"That bad?"

"He has good intentions, but no self restraint. He tells me the last two weeks he has lived here his neighbors are already rioting against him. I don't blame them, but I wouldn't tell him that."

"Why?" I inquired.

"He's an idiot, but he's a big, strong idiot."

"Even with Jasper on your side?"

"Ha! Nah, Jazz is neutral; damn Switzerland."

"I assume he bruises easily?"

"Like a peach. I hope he isn't hyperventilating in the subway...I hope Emmett isn't torturing him about it either."

"You let _Emmett_ take Jasper on the subway?" Edward looked thoughtful for a moment, and shook his head.

"Yeah, that was stupid." He laughed to himself, and spoke again. "So, besides good music, what else do you like?" The song changed to that of another classical melody, one that was easy to talk over.

"Umm, I live on coffee?"

"Go on."

"Old movies," He motioned with his hands to continue, and so I gave him more details. "with Irene Dunn, Gregory Peck, like Bringing Up Baby and Roman Holiday. I love reading like a dork." Again, he circled his hand in the air. "I have read Wuthering Heights hundred of times, umm, Pride and Prejudice, and almost everything Jane Austen has written, and, well, more but I just can't remember them now."

"Are you reading one now?"

"Yeah, Dracula by Bram Stroker." Edward raised his eyebrows with an unconscious seductiveness about them.

"Do you like vampires?" He grinned a devilish grin, on purpose I assumed. This time, he was probably trying to be sexy. I hoped he knew CPR...

"A little." He leaned further toward my face, tilting his face lower as the candles created a spooky, yet hauntingly seductive scene around his face.

"What if I were a vampire?" Edward's velvet voice rang as my pulse raced inside my head. If there was a condition to offset a stroke, this was certainly it.

"Truthfully?"

"I can bear it."

"I would like them a lot more." I whispered softly, and more smoothly than I had expected myself to sound. My eyes drew themselves to his, which had returned from the dangerous man's back to Edward's, but a still lingering hint of danger lingered, only pulling me closer. With his nose near my jawline, my eyes sought his through my dark eyelashes, and his met mine. The porcelain white of his eye rested beneath his tilted eyes, making them even more luminescent. Slowly he craned his neck so our eyes were level in the intense bond they locked on. Hesitantly, the hand that did not support him approached my face. His thumb brushed lightly over my cheek, and a stream of blood underneath my pale skin followed it like a shadow. Edward's index finger carried the trail beneath my jaw-bone, and when the tip of his finger reached the bottom of my cheek, I followed his lead. He did not wait for my lips to touch his first, and as if we had coordinated it our lips met the other's in perfect harmony.

His lips were soft, and moved in a pattern I never knew possible, and the pattern that was the direct opposite of the one I followed. A perfect match. Our movements were slow and deliberate, his hand cupped my neck, and as he positioned his weight on his folded leg, his other hand brushed a strand of hair from my face. My hand found his hair, and my fingers raked slowly through the absurdly soft locks. Slowly, my hand slid down to the top of his shoulder, feeling his collarbone below my thumb. At the same time, our lips drew apart, and our hands slid to the other's shoulders. Our foreheads leaned against each other's, and our eyes were closed.

Edward brushed my cheek again, only this time to feel my skin, and not to retrieve another kiss. Though I expected him to trace the rest of my skin, he was respectful in a way that let me know he would never be so cheap or so beastly as to get a girl drunk and do it in an elevator. Would that really be so terrible if I allowed that? Yes, it would. It was not even a date, bad as it was to go all the way on a first date. Besides that even, this elevator was glass, and should the lights turn on...well, I did not want to give New York that kind of show. I told myself I should not even be thinking about something like this, and I blamed it on the half empty bottles of wine, though I knew it was only myself to blame. Thank goodness Edward could not read minds...could he? No, he could not possibly. Not without laughing at me, at least.

"Wow." Was all I could say as the electricity still lingered on my lips.

"I--wow." Was all he could say. Without realizing the iPod had still been playing, another song chosen by Rosalie was selected. The song Too Drunk by Buckcherry to be exact.

_Well, I guess I am too drunk to f--_

_I hit the bottle in the morning in the summertime_

_Quit my job cause it got in the way_

_I find a party by the ocean_

_buy the cheapest wine and tell my friends to come and waste the day..._

_Now I am just looking for a girl to meet and help me to forget my name_

_I could spend my lifetime getting high..._

_Oh, I am getting drunk all day,_

_Getting drunk all night, _

_I am sorry but I have to say,_

_I am too drunk too f--_

"I am going to kill Rose." I muttered under my breath, and I could feel Edward's body shake beside me in laughter.

"That's ironic." Edward joked. Strangely, the awkwardness faded with his words. He was genuinely amused, and thankfully, we could part and laugh in drunken tones. "And tell her thanks for me."

"For what?"

"For giving us material for some interesting conversations." Of course, he was a gentlemen. He looked at me, and then clicked the wheel of my iPod. I had been blushing all too obviously, and he wanted to make me comfortable. The next song the came up was harmless, and we made our ways back into conversation soon.

"So, smart guy, what have you read?"

"Well, Dracula, obviously, hmm...most recently Les Miserables."

"Impressive."

"I highly recommend it."

"Okay, my turn to interrogate. Favorite movies."

"I see, okay. The Bourne Identity and the sequels, The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly, Titanic," He admitted, tilting his head and rolling his eyes. "mostly I am a music person."

"Continue." I said, stealing his hand movement.

"Fine." He joked. "Debussy, and a bunch of indies you have never heard of."

"That's it?"

"Yup."

"So tell me something, Edward."

"Anything."

"If we weren't trapped in an elevator together, would you still have talked to me?"

"Of course. The only reason I can think of why I wouldn't would be you."

"What do you mean?"

"Would you be so open with me if we weren't trapped together?"

"No." I admitted. "Would you care?"

"If there was any hope that you would talk to me, very much so."

"What makes you think I wouldn't?"

"You didn't. Before we crashed, we hadn't spoken a word." I looked down in shame. He was absolutely right. If we hadn't gotten stuck, I never would have even noticed the magnificent man before me.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I believe everything happens for a reason, and we were supposed to talk to the other, even if it meant getting stuck in an elevator." I brought my head up from his shoulder where it lay, and looked into his eyes. Suddenly, the emergency candles had become bubbling pools of wax and extinguished. Darkness filled the space, and though we could not see, our lips met, and this time, we kissed with intention. Our movements were faster, and adrenaline pulsed through my swelling veins. The sweat on our bodies were now from our heat, and not from the heat of the city.

My fingers wound around his locks of hair I claimed as my favorite, and as his hand wound around mine, a bell rang from outside.

"Is anybody in there? New York Fire Department." Damn emergency services. Could we not stay in there just a little longer? Please? Edward cleared his throat and answered as we pulled away from the other.

"Yes, we are alright." The doors were forcefully opened, only to allow the buzz of electricity to race through the wires of New York. Light flickered through the blackness below, and cheers were audible from this height. If only I had something to cheer about. I liked being stuck with Edward, and never wanted to leave him.

"Geez, have you two been in the dark for these hours?" The firefighter asked, his accent thick.

"We had candles." Edward pointed out as I reluctantly collected my things. I had not expected the wine bottles to be empty, and the two of us laughed at the straws that now sat inside the empty glass.

"Can I?" I asked, pointing to the bottle.

"Sure." Edward laughed. However, a solemn expression came upon his face when he helped lift me up to the floor above the line that separated two. He followed behind, and in the confusion, the emergency workers flooded the halls, turning off gas, and so forth. In the disorganization, Edward and I could only wave to each other as we drifted to opposite stairwells with the crowds that ushered us.

"Bye." I whispered so softly he could not have heard me in the thirty feet that now seperated each other. He blew me a kiss, and as the door to the stairwell closed in front of him, my eyes began to well with salty tears. This would be the last time I would see Edward, and that pained me more than having never met him. Something inside began to hurt.


	5. Shorty Got Low

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Twilight or any of the characters.

**Author's Note:**As some of you may know, this story was recently stolen by an author called VampiresandBigSmellyDogs, claiming it as their own. They have since taken it down upon my command, and I have contact the site. I do not condone hate mail, but I cannot control you. I do however, ask that my readers boycott this author so as not to reward their thieving. Do not plagiarise, it is unfair and the most despicable, low act you can commit against an author. I felt a slight sliver of what Stephenie Meyer must have felt; sheer anger. Though this is on a significantly smaller scale, I have even higher a respect for her, and understanding for her discontinuation of Midnight Sun. I had planned to write this chapter last night, but with my rage I wanted to kill all of the characters, making for a crappy story. Thanks to everyone who reads, and keeps the stories they read the possession of the authors that wrote them. Also, I have an official MySpace- /juliettdawson. Copy and paste, and request me to be your friend. Type me a note saying you read my Fanfiction, and I will accept you, and write bulletins on updates and new stories.

Elevators, Blackouts, and Strangers

Chapter 5- Shorty Got Low

**Alice**

"Taxi!" I raised my voice above the heads that towered above me. I was little, but I was loud, and pushy, and whatever else Bella labelled me as. I didn't mind, especially because most of the time she was right. I had walked to the center of Times Square from where I worked at the neighboring fashion district, and every canary yellow car had been occupied, off duty, or smelled of alcohol. No matter how many I saw, none were mine for the taking.

"Taxi!" I yelled again slightly louder as I hung off of the curb. I groaned, hoping to be back home before Bella. She had called Rosalie and myself at the very moment I realized I left my sketchbook at my desk, and having had hoped to revise some trims and color the dull, gray drawings, I decided to race back and get it and then hurry back home. I really despised these spongy nights when the heat frizzed my hair and the humidity set claustrophobia upon my chest. It was made worse when the threat of having to take the grimy subway was more of a reality than a possibility.

"Damn tourists..." I muttered under my breath. It was peak travel season, and the travelers were less than talented at keeping the pedestrian traffic moving then they were at occupying all of the taxis in New York so they would not have to walk the entire tree blocks to that wonderful restaurant they found online. Though I myself loved traveling and souvenirs, these people were a nuisance, as I was those years ago that I moved here. It was all so strange to me, how everyone seemed to have somewhere to go, and they knew exactly where it was they were going. Women were beautiful like that of supermodels, and thought nothing of it. The men here were superficial and robotic, but they had this sort of importance about them that I longed one day to have. Even the atmosphere here, when it was not clogged with heat, had this scent of prosperity, and of significance that was so unlike what Forks had, and will ever have.

"TAXI!!" My voice shot through the air, and echoed off the sides of the buildings. People arond me stared, and whispered in the ears of their company. Growling from within my chest, I stormed off the the nearest subway entrance with the utmost distaste. The tiled walls were yellowed, and the floors were caked with dust and grease. The air beneath the ground was thicker than that above nearly strangled me, and I fought the urge to cover my nose and mouth with a tissue. I made my way through the dimly lit concrete hallways of the subway, and stood my ground as the train rolled into the station, bringing with it a gust of moldy air. A few coughs escaped my lungs, and I pleaded with whatever god there was to expedite this somewhat mentally painful journey.

The silver doors parted, leaving a tidal wave of people on the path were myself and a few others fought to swim against the tourist current. The car was rather empty, with plenty of seats left empty. In the far back corner, a somewhat intimidating man sat with his hood pulled over his dark skin, and a large boombox sitting on his lap. He bobbed his head to the air that was devoid of music, his sunglasses reflecting the fluorescent lights above us. Two other women who looked to be about my age sat nervously across from each other, making themselves painfully weak appearing. A lost couple from out of town stared blankly at a map, and a father held his sleeping daughter in his lap. As my eye peered around the space, they landed on the most handsome men I had seen from outside the gloss of a magazine.

The first of the men bore broad shoulders and arms that seemed to be peach-colored tree trunks. A perpetual grin insinuating childishness brimmed his face, revealing two dimples in his cheeks. Dark, curly hair was piled atop his large head, and his nearly black eyes were widened with excitement. His friend's, however, were widened in what seemed to be absolute terror. Blonde hair was swept around his face that now began to glisten in the light sheen of sweat, dark, livid eyes flickered nervously from sight to sight, and his tall frame was sort of hunched over as he sat with his head below his shoulders and his hands folding and twisting in his lap.

As I spied on the two behind my magazine, I lowered myself even to eavesdropping. Something about the two men intrigued me, not knowing whether it was the blonde's fear of subways or the larger man's mammoth size and constant urging. My heart attached itself to the golden-haired boy, and something about the fear he radiated kept my gaze, and for some reason I felt myself memorizing the exact shade of blonde his hair possessed; not quite beige, yet not platinum, with glints of dirty blonde and honey. Though his eyes remained closed, the color was more vibrant than any fabric I had seen, or any paint every drawn onto a brush. The pale hands that were glossed in a sheen of sweat pulled at his collar, and I began to wonder if he was beginning to have an asthma attack, or a pulmonary embolism or something of the sort.

Before I came to my own conclusions about these two strangers, I decided it would be best if I listened in on their conversations, and pick apart the details to form an image of their lives in my mind's eye.

"Come on, dude, calm down. It's just a tube." The muscular one attempted at comfort while he patted the nervous one's shoulder.

"An underground tube." He responded. His voice, though shaky with mild fear, was utterly intoxicating. Smooth, deep, musical and had the texture rivaling that of satin. The blonde man seemed to grow more pale by the moment, and more than anything I wished I could comfort him, partially so he would open his eyes, partially so I could see him smile, and partially so I would have an excuse to talk to him. Was there any way to approach this man that was too good to be a model without appearing desperate, or like a stalker? Well, one could argue that stalkers are desperate, but that was besides the point. In New York no one spoke to strangers unless they were running after them for their wallet, or were giving them the bird in traffic.

Instead, I surrendered into absorbing his entire appearance. The mammoth sized man wore only a white t shirt that stretched across his large chest, and faded blue jeans, making his style look effortless compared to the hysterical blonde. The man my eye had caught on wore deep blue jeans that were expertly faded with every bleach spot in place. A worn, brown leather belt was slid through the blue loops of his pants, though it was visible through a small part of him that was exposed with his shirt riding up as he leaned over his knees. A black, button down short sleeved shirt granted me sight to his rippling muscles beneath the skin of his shoulder, and gave a classy, yet down to earth air about him. Though I was no psychic, I knew he was the sort of person that people were attracted to, in a romantic, or friendly way. Even in his panicked state, he pulled me toward him like a magnet, though my body nailed me down to the orange seat below me.

It did not matter how interesting he was to me, I had more dignity than to approach a stranger in the most demeaning fashion as I had before considered. Wasn't I? Yes, I decided, I was. Even with the internal debate raging inside my confused head, my heart set itself on one hope, the excuse to talk to the two men.

It was not as if the blonde was the only allure to the two, for I had never seen anyone who looked quite the way they did, aside from their looks, and with the combination of the pair the situation seemed almost unreal, inhuman even. I told myself to get a grip, but my thoughts then wandered to the idea that the blonde was probably telling himself the same thing. Tired of my own inner conversations, I made myself better by listening to their outer conversing.

"Jesus, you are sweating like a pig. The hell is the matter with you? I've never seen you so shaken up." The brawny man said to his friend, making him roll his eyes.

"You have never seen me in tight, confined, cylindrical spaces." His sound was more radiant than before.

"Stop being such a woos."

"If you know what's good for you, you'll shut up Emmett." Emmett, what a strange name, though it matched with precision the appearance of the man named Emmett.

"Or what? You'll beat me up?" Mean as he sounded to me, it did not phase his friend. They were probably bickering constantly, and were used to the comments like this one.

"I'll do something worse."

"Like?"

"Remember my friend in the photography business?"

"Yeah?"

"He recently got a job to shoot an ad for preventing the spread of HIV."

"So...you are going to bore me to death with a safety pamphlet?" As my chuckle escaped my lips, I quickly looked down at my magazine and pretended that it was the source of my laughter as Emmett glanced at me.

"No...remember that picture I took of you in front of the empire state building?"

"Yeah...?"

"Well..."

"You wouldn't dare!" Emmett growled at his friend.

"Wouldn't I?" The blonde man lowered his voice to sound elusive, making my heart jump into my throat.

"You suck." Emmett sat back into his seat with his thick arms folded across his chest, making his muscles bulge even more than before, catching the eyes of the two women across the car. His friend only grinned, for the first time that I had seen, and answered with a mocking tone.

"I know." The subway rocked back side to side, and the gentle flickering of the lights that hung from the sides of the tunnel were in harmony with the thunderous booming of the rails beneath us. With every irregular jolt or snap, the golden-haired man stiffened, and wiped his forehead free of gleaming sweat. The train was silent with the exception of the technical rattles, and I gave up on the slim hope that I would have the chance to talk to strange, yet breathtaking pair. Instead, I sank further into my seat and absorbed myself in an article about Manolo Blanhik vs. Jimmy Chu. It took less time than I had guessed, though it was not a far fetched idea for my mind to be occupied with the subject of shoes. At that moment, shoes were my one and only love. And what was not to love? So what if they hurt? My feet had lost precious blood and skin to my favorite pair of Chanel boots, and I never regretted one painful step.

Then, of course, when I was bored with dressing myself, I I took to the challange of forcing Bella into various stilettos and miniskirts, though not at the same time. I was rather adventurous in my clothes, but I was not tacky enough to wear towering heels with shrunken skrits. I drifted into a sea of designers, and logos, and of the new line from Gucci that featured a sleek jacket that might as well be called 'the Alice jacket', when a sudden shaking on the track did not feel normal.

Though normally I hailed a cab home, I had been doomed to this grimy fate enough times to know the places on the route that gave way to a jump of the car or a rattle that was louder than the rest. My body had come to memorize the jolts, and this was unfamiliar. Suddenly, the lights lowered until they were nothing at all but worthless ceiling tiles. I heard the train's power source lower into silence, and the car slowed its speed until it stood still on the darkened path.

My heart began to thud furiously as we were realized that not a thing could be seen. Not a hand in front of your face, or even the batting of your own eyelashes were visible.

"Oh god!" I heard the man begin to hyperventilate. Within seconds, my nervousness was lifted as the back up generator hummed out of its dormant state, granting us dim, golden lights. The other passengers and myself sighed in relief, especially that of the blonde. Emmett gave him a reassuring pat on the back, and mumbled something unintelligible to him that made him lift his head so that it was horizontal with the floor. It was clear to me that he was shaking, and I could almost hear his racing pulse.

Was he truly that afraid? Could claustrophobia be that extreme? Now was the time when I wanted to help the man not for my own benefit, but to assure him of his safety, and to ease his fraying nerves. Could I be that persuasive to calm him? Would he trust a stranger? I decided this was not the time to bring up his fear to talk to him. I was not that selfish. Instead, I pulled out my pink Chocolate cell phone and held it high above me to detect the faintest hint of a signal.

"Shoot." I said to myself, knowing Bella was probably worried sick about Rose and myself, as I was about Rosalie and Bella. We were so important to each other that I would not be out of line speaking for the others in saying that their being in our lives was crucial to us having lives. We were all so different, and yet we were such similar creatures at heart. We had the same longing to be loved, and our faults were so broad there was nothing the three of us could not attempt were it legal and useful. Together, the three dysfunctional women that we were formed one complete, utterly perfect and talented person. Only that one person would have been a lot lonelier than we were.

The only love we craved was that of a man, and perhaps that was why I was so drawn to the pair in the train, and maybe they were not as gorgeous as I thought them to be, but to be oblivious does not mean to be rid of happiness. In fact, if these men were average, I could have a fighting chance at the trembling blonde without fearing my every movement, and without the nag of possible future regret hanging over every decision, every syllabel uttered, and every blink of my eye.

I had been used to having anyone I wanted, but I did not want anyone a fraction of the enormous yearning I felt for this man. Something about him made me long for him, and the feeling was terribly new and strange to me. Yet the feeling was the best thing I had ever felt.

I looked around the car, and saw that the other passengers were without phone service as well. We all sat in silence as New Yorkers do, god forbid we should speak to another. It was a stupid custom, really, when people go out in public to meet people and to talk to them, yet when they are they allow at least a seat between themselves and another, and do not even speak with another being. Our world so overpopulated, yet so under spoken, and most of all, under loved. People wonder why they have not found love, and it is because they searched for _love_, and not for other people. Sometimes love must first come from something else. Sometimes love isn't love at all, until you know what you are loving, or until you have found what you love _about_ them.

Though I had my share of disappointments and less than honest men, Rosalie had it the worst out of all of us. She got engaged her first year of college to a man of wealth and social status. I believe she loved him, and that she believed so herself, she is smarter than that and despite what some may think she would never become a gold digger. About six months after the engagement, the man attacked her and left her in the street. I was all the way in Forks at the time, and Bella was in Florida visiting her mother when the crime occurred. Thankfully, some good sumaritan found her, but instead of calling an ambulance carried her to the emergency room. He did not give his name, and left only when the doctor told him she would survive. He never knew of her name, for blood masked her face and identification had been robbed of her with her money and credit cards.

We never found out who the man was, or even what he looked like. Should we have known, I would have been this man's lifelong slave for how he helped her; he could even have saved her life. Of course, he must have known who had done such a thing to her, possibly having seen him run away, for the next morning police arrested him with Rose's firsthand identification of her attacker, and found him with a broken nose. Though that could have been caused by anything, he pleaded guilty. This man was not a good man, and when he committed himself to a life behind prison bars without parole I knew he had to have been taught what happens when one hurts Rosalie. Maybe one day I would find out, and be able to give him the thanks he deserves. If only, that seemed the phrase of my lifetime. Full of 'ifs', and never of anything secure. My job was an 'if' dependant on 'in' and 'out'. The only thing secure in my life, unchanging and constant, was Bella and Rosalie. We were not a cliche glue metaphor, we were a puzzle who had room for more pieces, but would never separate.

In a way, they were the loves of my life. We loved each other like sisters, and felt as such. We left notes for each other on the foggy mirrors after showers, we watched old movies with popcorn underneath a blanket, spilling red wine all over it until the once white material became that of a dusty red. We shared a closet. We lead different lives, but we are inseparable. We had someone to rely on, and that was all that mattered.

The other passengers and myself began to squirm uncomfortably in our seats as the sweltering heat increased with a soppy humidity. Despite the efforts I made to try to ignore the two men, my attention was brought back to them when the blonde began to rock back and forth in his seat.

"Jazz? You alright man?" Emmett asked the man I now knew as Jazz, whatever that was short for, and my worry increased.

"Distract me."

"From what?"

"From the tightening in my chest."

"Dude, are you having a heart attack?" Emmett looked frantic and frightened. Instead, 'Jazz' looked up at him and smacked him on the back of the head .This reassured me that he was not having a heart attack.

"No, you dumbass, claustrophobia." I exhaled, not realizing I had been holding my breath.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Emmett asked, concerned.

"Can you magically make the electricity come back?" Jazz answered sarcastically.

"I meant something I could actually do."

"No. Thanks though."

"Sure." Suddenly, loud thudding footsteps approached the car, and a beam of golden light from that of a flash light shone through the windows. A man in a navy blue transit uniform made his way through the train, equipped with light and a notebook of names. That could not have bettered Jazz's situation.

"I am sorry for the inconvenience everyone. My name is Tyler and I am an employee of the New York Metro Transit Authority and have come to make sure everyone is alright, and to inform you of the situation. Is anyone injured?"

"Not physically." Jazz whispered to himself.

"We're alright." The other passengers and myself answered.

"Can we leave now?" Emmett said like a young child at the doctor's office.

"Unfortunately, we have no idea when the electricity will come back and, or the train for that matter. It would be too dangerous to allow you all to leave." We groaned at Tyler's answer. "We hope to be up and running shortly, and ask you all to remain patient. Thank you for riding Metro." Tyler left, sounding like a flight attendant who had just breathed helium.

I continued my creepy staring at Jazz, that was until Emmett whispered in his ear. Had he caught me? Crap. Now I looked like a stalker. Fantastic, just how I wanted to be viewed by these two handsome men. Oh well, they were probably used to it. To them I was just another crazed fan of an unknown man. Were they unknown? They could certainly be models or actors, but with my knowledge of the celebrity world there was little chance that I did not know them.

Trying to force my eyes to remain on the page before me was unsuccessful, and diminished what was left of my hope that Jazz would notice me. As I looked at him, his blonde head was still hung by his knees, only this time it was turned toward the two giggling women on the other side of the car. They were attractive enough, especially so with what could only be DD's and tight shirts. Their legs were exposed in their skirts, and though they were not dressed scantily, they gave the appearance that they were easy. So that was what he wanted. He was like any other man. Of course, someone like him would want tall, skinny, but big in the right places with long hair like Rosalie.

I never wanted to change my appearance, not only because it would be impossible to raise me to average height but because I liked being unique. I was about two inches below being five feet tall, and was tiny in every aspect. For spending so much time in the sunlight, I was somewhat pale with deep brown eyes. My jet black hair hung limply around my shoulders, and as I twirled it around my fingers I reminded myself to get a haircut to chop off the split ends that were eating away at the bottom of my hair. One of my cousins who happened to be coming to visit me in two days was a hair stylist, perhaps he could give me a new look. I was tired of the lifeless locks, and wanted something fresh, like highlights. Though I hated shortening my hair even in trims, I was never opposed to color.

Once my mind was freed from the blonde man, I was quickly reminded when he got up and began to pace. Emmett look frazzled, and desperate to try to calm his friend. It must have been hard for him, seeing as he looked not like one that was the most comforting in his group. He searched his surroundings for some source of solace for Jazz, until his eyes landed on mine. We stared into the other's eyes for a moment, knowing what the other was about to say, though I did not know why he would want my help. Wouldn't he rather convince Skanky and Slutty to talk to him instead of me, in a shirt that went up to my neck, and a skirt that was hardly above the knee?

Emmett stood, breaking our gaze. He strode toward his friend, and suggested he walk through the rest of the cars to get some air. He complied, and left. When he vanished from sight, Emmett approached me as I knew he would. Sitting beside me, his gigantic shoulder grazed me. We must have looked ridiculous sitting next to each other; him so large and myself so small. He seemed friendly, with his dimples visible without a smile, and his dark curly hair piled on top of his head. The veins in his arms were prominent above his layered muscles, and I could not help but stare. At this he only smiled, seeming to enjoy it.

"Can I help you?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

"My friend over there, Jasper, he is having a difficult time."

"Claustrophobia?"

"Yes. I hate asking you this, and must sound like a creep, but I have no idea what to do with him. I convinced him to ride today to try to get rid of his fear, and we get stuck. If I had listened to him we would have been fine, this is all my fault. What can I do?" His guilt poured into his voice, and I knew what to do.

"Follow my lead." I told him, not letting him on about the plan. I took an inventory of every passenger; the two skanks, the scary man with the boombox, and watched as the lost tourists and the man and his daughter left the car. People I had not noticed sat in the train, there being three women who walked away from a man that was hitting on them in the last car, and two teen-aged boys. Emmett looked bewildered, and scared as Jasper walked back toward the car I resided in temporarily.

Gathering my courage, I walked up to Scary Man and spoke to him .

"Hey, give me a beat." He looked up at me from behind his sunglasses, his dark skin contrasting with his porcelain white eyes. He appraised me, seeing if I was worthy of his music. I smiled brightly, and used all of my charisma. He nodded, with a faint smile, and clicked a button on his boombox. Without radio reception, he played a CD that spun beneath a plastic panel that clicked into the side. Apple bottom jeans blared through the speakers, and I prepared myself for embarrassment.

Skipping to my bag, I flipped on my sunglasses, and held my mini hairbrush in front of my face. _Here goes nothing, _I told myself. when I centered myself in the car, I began to sing.

"Got them Apple Bottom jeans, boots with the fur

The whole club's lookin' at her

she hit the floor, she hit the floor

next thing you know

shorty got low, low, low, low, low, low, low, low"

Scary Man, as I named him, certainly had a sense of humor. I am short, haha. As I sang, I danced to the words, acting completely out of character, tarnishing my reputation, and having more fun than I would have guessed. With a smile on my face, I looked behind me to see Scary Man smiling in approval. He began to beat box with perfection, not a movement of his lips out of tune with the music. His hands scratched invisible nylon records, and his head bobbed to the counts.

Seeing the attention that I attracted, I knew it was time to bring it. The two teenage boys were watching with their mouths open in amazement, making them vulnerable to my eyes. I reached for their hands and led them to the floor. Still singing, I moved my hips as I lowered myself to the floor when the lyrics matched, keeping my body at an appropriate distance from them. The first of the boys had fiery red hair, and deep brown eyes, contrasting from the second with brown hair and electric eyes of blue. Their heads too bobbed to the music, and soon they released their best house party moves.

The boy with the red hair suddenly broke free from our group, and hurled himself on the floor, spinning around on his side with his legs in the air. I began a pattern of clapping to the music, soon joined by the other boy and the two slutty girls. Hiding my distaste from their clothes, or lack of which, I flashed my smile at them and beckoned them to come forward with their hands. The two looked at each other questioningly, and made their minds to join me. After the five of us danced together, I forced the two pairs together while I walked toward the two men.

Emmett was smiling in amazement, seeing as how few girls, being so self concious as we are nowadays would attempt something like this. For fear of losing my nerve, I grabbed the hand of the mammoth Emmett and walked him to the group that was grinding against each other in the center of the car. He looked surprise at my taking him to the floor instead of Jasper, but as I danced with him, I winked, telling him of my unspoken plan. Edging myself toward the side of the car with the new women in the car, I convinced them too to join in, increasing the dancing bodies to nine. Knowing there were only two others in the car that were still seated, I calmed myself, and walked past Scary Man toward Jasper.

With my throat silenced, I raised my sunglasses above my head and tossed them on my seat. Looking the blonde in the eyes with a flirtatious smile, I held my hand out in front of him. He slowly raised his eyes to me, meeting mine. A jolt of inner electricity pierced my veins, making adrenaline seem like a sleep aid as our eyes met, and as I gazed into the icy blue orbs, I knew I would never settle for any man less than average again. Wiggling my fingers, he slowly took my hand and stood. Turning around, I held his hand over my shoulder, and took him as my dancing prisoner. A smile crept on his face, though his eyes were still wary as to my intentions.

Standing stoically, Jasper did not seem like the sort who was used to the club scene. I had to change that. Closing the distance between our bodies now varnished with sweat from the moistened air, I reached my hands up to his tall shoulders, and moved my hips that rested against his thighs. His reluctance slowly faded, and with caution, he rested his hands on my hips that swayed rapidly to the new song that blasted from the corner of the car.

_Ohh, I feel you creeping I can see it from my shadow_

_wanna jump up in my Lambroghini Gallardo_

_maybe go to my place and just kick it like Tae-Bo_

_and possibly bend you over and watch me Smack that_

_all on the floor_

_smack that_

_give me some more_

_smack that_

_'till you get sore_

_smack that_

_Oh-oooh!_

As he eased into the environment, he adjusted his weight from side to side in tune with the music, making his hips sway before me. The intensity between our eyes became too much for me, and unless I planned to jump on this poor man that very instant, I knew I had to break it. Twirling myself around so my back was against him, I raised my arms above me crossed across each other with their vertex at my forehead. The pale hands that rested against my skirt relaxed, molding themselves to my curve. It was so natural for us, like yin and yang, only we were not only the black and white that matched. We were both a spectrum of different colors broken apart, and joined together in a spectacular view of the vibrance in this world.

Jasper and I moved in perfect harmony, like a chorus of angels humming the perfect song of sharps and flats, we shifted our bodies in rythem I had never before experienced, and the contrast in our height and personalities made only the most beautiful chord. A chord of movement, a chord of lives joined in one fateful night.

Turning back around to witness the sight of a man's appearance never taken this handsome of a form, I saw Emmett from behind Jasper's arm. He danced with Skanky, and looked like he was having a good time. Our eyes met, and he gave me a smile in appreciation.

_I'm in love with a stripper_

_she climbs and she rolls and she's fallin_

_she climbs and then fallin'_

_I'm in love with a stripper_

The song slowed to a moderate tempo, and with still the grinding dancing in our veins, Jasper and I only slowed our moves, yet wiggled and twisted with the same vigilence. I returned the smile to Emmett, knowing I had only to thank him, and not the other way around. I had not had so much fun in my life without Rosalie and Bella, or with someone as hott as Jasper. Knowing I would never see him again, I allowed my mind only the physical fantasies, and nothing of the heart. It satisfied my craving for him, but like an addict I knew the hit would only cure the symptoms, and not the source.

It had been nearly three hours when startling white lights in the ceiling of the train flickered back on, and the train groaned with a metallic screech to a start, propelling us to Columbus Circle. With the jolt of speed, the entire cluster of grinding bodies felt to the floor on top of each other. That included myself and Jazz. I landed on top of him, balancing myself with my hands atop his chest. Our faces were inches away, and his hands were still resting on my hips, only weighing myself down closer to him.

My hormones raged, but as our bewildered eyes allowed the sight of the rest of the surroundings around us, it was as if cold water had been dumped on our faces. A woman stood above us with her hands on her hips and a scowl on her face. Quickly I jumped off of Jasper, brushing off my clothes and stepping further away from him.

"Oh shit." Emmett said in shock behind me. Did this woman know them? She had not been in the car before, though I believed I saw her in the car adjacent.

"Jasper Cullen!" She shrieked in anger while I stood wide-eyed.

"Oh, Tanya..." He began. I was furious! I was the other woman for those hours! This 'Tanya' was obviously his girlfriend, and she had seen me on top of him. I would have told myself he led me on, and that I was the victim, only it was not the truth. I had led him to the floor, it was I who forced him to dance with me as I wiggled seductively, and it was I who had made Jasper cheat.

"Don't you 'oh Tanya' me! What the hell are you doing underneath that skank?"

"I am not a skank! He didn't tell me..." My explanation was cut short by a smack to the face the left my cheek red in the shape of her hand. At the clap of her skin to mine, another song played from Scary Man's boombox.

_I'm holding on your rope_

_Got me ten feet off the ground_

_And I'm hearing what you say but I just can't make a sound_

_you tell me that you need me_

_then you go and cut me down, but wait_

_you tell me that you're sorry_

_didn't think I'd turn around and say_

_It's too late to apologize, it's too late_

_I said it's too late to apologize, it's too late_

With my head hung in humiliation, and guilt, I saw from the corner of my eye two blue irises staring at me in shame. He had a boyish sort of fear in his eyes, and it was all I could do to walk away into the next car. If Rosalie had been here, Tanya would have had her pulled from her scalp until she was bald of her strawberry blonde hair, but she was not here. I was alone, and I was a coward. As I thought about it though, I stopped before the door, and turned on my heel. The woman was facing away from me, yelling at Jasper when I crept behind her.

Tapping on her shoulder, I stood on my tiptoes. Before she could speak, I sent my curled fist into her nose, and heard it crack. I walked away with my hips swinging and a smile on my redenned face. My sadness turned to anger, and with my thirst for Tanya's pain quenched, I was on top of the world.

So many memories raced through my mind that night as I walked home, clouding my mind. I knew Jasper was too good to be true, and with his jerkiness revealed to me, there was nothing about him that I missed. I didn't care if I was single the rest of my life, I would never date a Jasper. It was sort of like the first song that played; Shorty got low, but what they did not sing was Shorty got revenge.


	6. Loud Noises and Explinations

**Disclaimer**: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Elevators, Blackouts, and Strangers**

**Chapter 6- **Loud Noises and Explanations

**Rosalie**

The clock read nine in the morning when it awoke me from my restless sleep. I pulled the eye cover over my head and reluctantly got out of bed. I heard Alice in the next room humming to herself while she sketched. It was during the daytime hours that the living room was converted into Alice's home office. Not that I minded, in fact I rather liked watching her draw her mental creations. She had a way of going about her work that made you want to sit and watch, when at first the page seems nothing but random lines and colors, and then develops into something spectacular before your eyes. I envied her talent of projecting her creations from her mind to her hand, and from her dexterous fingers onto the white page before her. Her eyes had this intensity about them as she drew, as if she could see each individual pigment of graphite or colored pencil on the paper, and each had to be perfectly aligned in a way to make the two dimensional fabric flow behind the model, or to make the draped shirt fall perfectly over the shoulders.

Opening my bedroom door slowly so as not to startle her, I crept behind Alice and peeked over her shoulder.

"Morning." I cleared my throat, and with it the usual morning grumble I emitted. Despite my lack of sleep due to my noisy as hell neighbor whose wall touched only mine, I was alert and awake. I supposed it was an inner rush of energy that supplied itself only when I really needed it, like those nights when I bar-tended at the restaurant where I worked, New Moon. By days I waitressed, and most of the time when my shift ended it converted itself into a sort of club with elegant music and lavish sofas. The bar was made of red mahogany, and was filled with the trendiest of people. Rarely was I asked to bar tend, seeing as how many guys would cause problems to buy me a drink, though I refused for two reasons; I was not allowed to drink at work not that I wanted to, and the guys were sometimes cute, but were utter pigs. Those were the nights I wore necklines that were not plunging or were not somewhat see through.

"You're awfully alert this morning." Alice said as she jumped up to hug me. She always enjoyed the days when I was not like the Seasame Street character who lived in a trash can called Grouch. She had actually drawn a comic of me living out of a tin trash can with an irritated look on my face. I was mad at the time, but now it hung on my wall, making me laugh whenever I looked at my alter-ego amongst banana peels and crumpled up cans with a sleepy look in my eyes.

"Weird, huh?"

"Did you sleep well?" Alice asked as she returned to her sketch.

"No, actually I slept like shit." She looked up at me as I poured myself a glass of orange juice with a strange look on her face. "Yeah, I don't get it either."

"What kept you up?" I groaned loudly, revealing my inner irritation.

"'It was Dickwad over there" I said as I pointed to my room, "who decided to play Rockband at three in the morning." Alice giggled. Dickwad was the tenant whose wall backed up to my bedroom, more specifically his bathroom and bedroom wall. The walls were so thin, I could tell the difference. It was grotesque in the best respect. I had named him after the first time I screamed at him. He had moved in a week or two ago, and ever since has been doing his best to make my life miserable. Most of his doings were that of singing very badly in the shower to Nickelback songs, playing his stupid video games throughout the night, or even just banging on the wall to piss me off.

The nights that were the worst, however, were when the sounds coming from his bedroom were not that of electronic devices. There were little secrets of his I did not know, and that disgusted me. A few nights after he moved in, I decided to do something about it. He would feel the wrath of Rose. I remembered that night very well, for it was after that that we had an almost nightly routine of screaming at each other through the walls.

"Excuse me?" I had said against the wall as he played what sounded like a racing video game. The sounds suddenly stopped, and I continued. "Hey, you with the video game? Could you please quiet it down a little so I can sleep? It's after two am!" The noises ceased all together, and I thought I had won when all I had done was make a new game for him; piss off Rosalie.

"Uh, I am kinda in the middle of something." He said, his voice muffled through the wall.

"So am I! I was trying to sleep!"

"Well, I am trying to beat my score on Gran Tourismo 5! Piss off!" That did it. I banged my fist against my wall as the sounds of screeching wheels and whooshing wind were turned up louder than before.

"You shut your volume off now or so help me..."

"Or what, you'll ground me? _Mom_!"

"Oh! Well forgive me if those of us who have lives actually need to sleep!"

"Haha, sucks for you!"

"Damn it! Just turn off the sound!"

"No!"

"Asshole!"

"Bitch!" Every night, the words intensified. Last night was certainly a record in names called and profantities screamed.

"Listen, fuckface, I leave you alone when you have 'guests' over, but when you shower in the middle of the night and bang on the wall just to annoy me, just grow up and BE QUIET YOU JERK!"

"Leave me the fuck alone, psychotic bitch!"

"Oh, _I _am psychotic? I only scream at you because you annoy the living shit out of me! Is it so hard to play your stupid-ass game somewhere else?!"

"Get a life!"

"I have one! That's why I need to sleep! You don't have a life! You play video games all the time!"

"At least the nights I am not I am actually get some!"

"I can get any guy I want, I'm a god damn model!"

"Of what? Insane asylum clothes?"

"NO!" That was when I decided to throw him a tease that would surely make his game say 'game over'. "No," I continued in a sultry voice. "Lingerie." My warfare worked; all of the sounds subsided with the exception of a few explosions and an electronic voice ending his game.

"You made me lose! I was just about to beat the game! Screw you Psyco Bitch!"

"You wish I would! Dickwad!"

I retold the argument to Alice, who erupted into laughter that shook the entirety of her little body.

"It's not that funny!"

"Yes, it is. Sorry Rose, but seriously, the way you tell it..." Her arms were folded across her chest, and tears began to leak from the sides of her eyes.

"Well, Giggles, do you know of any way we can get this jerk evicted?"

"Hmm," she said as she calmed herself down and I sat on the couch beside her, the red of the fabric contrasting with my light blue shorts that I wore to sleep on these hot nights. "Rent Control is pretty tough...if we make enough complaints against him for noise and he doesn't do anything about it he could get a warning, and then a three-day notice..."

"Perfect!" I interrupted. I ran over to the wall in my room and smacked it with my fist a few times with so much force the wall shook with the impact. "Hear that, Dickwad? I am going to get your ass evicted!"

"Try, Psyco Bitch!"

"Start packing!" I skipped back to the living room with a smile plastered on my evil face. Alice looked at me with a hint of shock on her face, but also, was it worry? I reached for the phone, and asked her the number to the landlord.

"But Rose.."

"Not now Alice."

"No, I mean do you..." I held my finger up to tell her to be quiet as I waited to be connected to the landlord. She sat back down in surrender, and her fingers moved over the pages again with colored pencils in her hand that had costed her what I make in three days' pay. The management company that ran our building was unable to reach the landlord, but with the promise that he would be available tonight, I sat down with my orange juice in hand and my spirit lifted.

"Sorry, Alice, what were you going to say?"

"Nothing important. Do you have anything special to do today?"

"Not really. I have to work from three to seven tonight, and I will be home early . I have a few errands to run, but not much else. You?"

"Eh, no. Just have to make a run to the office today and drop these off and check on the purple draped dress I have been working on. The stupid intern screwed up the hem, and I had to demote her to errands and stuff. I am going to have to bring the entire dress still on the mannequin back to the apartment." Alice vented.

"People suck." I said.

"No, people don't suck. Stupid people suck."

"Cheers." I said. "I am jumping in the shower."

"Have fun."

I sprinted into my room, and grabbed my clothes for work. I withdrew a red, v-neck silk blouse and a waist-high skirt that slid over the shirt. With the uniform being only red and black, I grabbed my favorite red heels that tied around the ankle with a fabric bow. Stepping into the bathroom, I set down the pile of clothes and plastered on various skin creams and facial cleansers. I twisted the knob in the shower to hot, and waited as the room fogged. I walked over to my sink, and wrote myself a message.

_R,_

_Don't forget to call landlord to evict Dickwad. And, get band-aids, Bella hasn't been to the ER recently._

_Sorry Bells_

Rinsing my shampoo down the drain, I prepared for the day ahead. Of course, I could not prepare myself for the nightmare this day would prove to be.

"Bye Alice." I called out as I headed out the door, my hair freshly blow-dried and holding my gray purse over my shoulder.

"Bye. Oh wait Rose?"

"Yeah?" I asked as I stood in the doorway.

"Your boss called. You're late. Tomorrow is the 3-7 shift. Today is noon to six."

"Shit!" I screamed. The clock read half after eleven. I had half an hour to race to New Moon in heels during the time of day when not one taxi would be available, and when my destination was nowhere near a subway station. I slammed the door behind me, threw my shoes in my purse, and prepared to run.

Thankfully, my skirt was loose, and allowed my long legs to speed through the halls. I pulled my hair back into a ponytail on the elevator ride down, and prepared to run from Columbus Circle to New Moon, which was tens of blocks away. As soon as the golden doors opened, I fled the small room with my bag flying behind me as I peeled barefoot through the lobby and out the door. The doorman looked at me, and shook his gray head. Everyone in this building knew I was strange, but running barefoot through gross New York streets was completely out of character for me.

My feet hit the sidewalk rapidly, and I darted between pedestrians and their dogs. I lept over orange construction cones as the workers whistles and shouted cat calls. In the height of my jump, I flipped them the bird and continued to run. I shouted 'excuse me's and 'sorry's and 'get out of my way' more times than I could count. Many stares came my direction, and though I was used to that most of the time it was my height or looks that drew their eyes, not the absurdity of a twenty five year old woman sprinting through Manhattan.

When the time came to cross the street at Times Square, I readied myself, waiting for the slowing of cars, and zoomed across. Yellow taxis honked at me and their drivers yelled curse words in my direction. I too flipped them off, and continued to race across the traffic-filled street. Having nearly been hit by twenty angry cars, I was glad to have made it to the sidewalk once more. Checking the watch that gripped onto my wrist,  
I saw I had ten minutes and many more blocks to go. I cursed to myself, but did not slow. Thank god for the treadmills at 24 Hour Fitness.

The minutes ticked by, and ticked-off people to no effect; I kept darting between them, jumping over small dogs and twisting around signs and strollers with my arm flying behind me, attached to the floppy gray Prada purse that had been a gift from one of my first print-ads. I called it my lucky bag, and this time was no different. As my three remaining minutes ticked by quickly, the restaurant was in view, and if by some miracle I made it there in time, it would be the best gift this bag had brought me, as well as my gym membership and endurance. With thirty seconds remaining, I slid on my un-tied heels and pulled the ponytail holder out of my hair so as I was in uniform whilst in the restaurant, and darted into the back.

My fingers fumbled with my time card, and struggled to calm the shakiness to insert it into the time stamp machine. Withdrawing the card, I breathed a sigh a relief as adrenaline shot through my pulsing veins. Twelve exactly. I was right on time. The rest of the employees that were not laughing were clapping in accomplishment. Needless to say, I had many friends and admirers here.

"Haha, suck on that!" I yelled in the kitchen with my hands raised above my head and my audience clapping. My boss walked past me, shook his head, and suppressed a smile. He knew I brought in too many male customers, and even some females, to fire me, especially with my perfect time record still intact.

"Alright, alright. Back to work. Miss Hale, tie your shoes before you sprain an ankle and get to section six." He said with a smile.

"Gotcha Dean."

"That's Mr. Samuels to you."

"Yeah, yeah." I said. We were on a first name basis, and nice as he was, he liked to point fingers. Dean was nice enough, but he talked incessantly. He made Alice seem like a stoner with his energy.

Calming my heart rate and brushing my hair, I slid on my short, black apron and put the two black, leather money books as I called them, into the pocket as well as a handful of straws and a pen. Putting on another layer of red lipstick, made my way to section 6.

The day past by uneventfully, and rather boring. Customers gawked, women smacked their boyfriends and husbands, food was delivered, and the only event that detoured the days' monotony was burning my hand on the bowl of soup that the idiot waiter Eric spilled on me.

"Eric, you clumsy idiot!" This was not the first time something hot or pointy had made its way to my skin by his uncoordinated hand. If he and Bella had a child, that kid would be born without a cerebellum.

"Sorry Rosalie."

"It's alright. Just keep yourself alive today, if that's possible." He had already cut his finger while cutting potatoes once, and nearly chopped off his thumb, demoting him from su-chef to waiter. Poor idiot.

Finally, the hour struck six, and I was freed from the steamy kitchen and the boring restaurant. I gathered my things, and walked to the curb, hailing a cab. I gave him my address, and he drove me through the darkening streets to Columbus Circle, where I had started this morning. Remembering my race against time, I laughed at myself, making the driver stare at me like a lunatic.

"Oh come on, like you haven't driven people who talk to the voices in their head and I am the weirdest person here?" He scoffed at me, and I flipped my hair back and leaned against the black leather seat. I took out my iPhone that had a red, elastic cover over the black exterior, and dialed.

"Rosalie?"

"Yeah, it's me."

"Wow, it's been a while."

"I know. Sorry it's been so long."

"You sound good."

"I am. How are you?"

"Good, actually. I uh, I'm engaged." My heart sank.

"Really? Congratulations. To whom?"

"You don't know her. I live in Los Angeles now."

"Wow, that's great, Sam. What made you leave La Push?"

"Job."

"Oh, well, I am happy for you." There was a silence on the phone with the awkwardness, and I wondered why I decided to call him in the first place. He had been the first boyfriend I had in Forks, and the last before my fiancee who...well, I decided not to think about that. I had broken up with Sam for a purely superficial reason, and I always wondered if I hadn't, then would we still be together? If I wasn't so judgemental, would I have ever been attacked by the man I almost married? For years, I wanted to talk to him again, and kept his cell phone number in my phone, waiting for this day. It was too late.

"Not that I am not happy to hear from you Rose, but why did you call me?"

"Nothing. Nothing I just-I just wanted to say hi."

"I don't believe you."

"Why?"

"I heard about what happened. I am really sorry."

"It's not your fault."

"I know. I know you were hurt, but you had years to call me. I am engaged, I love her. Her name is Emily, and she is great. You would like her."

"I am sure I would, if you do."

"I do, I really do." There was another awkward pause, and I knew it was time to hang up.

"Well, I have to go, but congratulations."

"Thanks Rose. Bye."

"Bye." I clicked the call to an end, and erased his number. It was time I found someone new.

Stepping out of the cab, I paid the driver, and strode toward the lobby. I said hello to the doorman, and forgot about Sam. Riding the elevator, I slid off my shoes that pinched my aching feet, still sore from my morning dash. None of my errands were done, and would have to be put off until tomorrow.

It was about eight when I walked through my door, there having been excessive traffic and a long line at the time stamp machine at work. Exhausted, I arrived just in time to hear Bella calling us telling us she would be later than usual. She was put on speaker phone, and then as Alice hung up, her eyes widened in realization.

"Crap. Sorry Rose, I have to run to the office."

"Why?"

"I left my sketch book there, and I desperately need it if I am going to make a dent in those jeans I had in my mind."

"Alice..." I whined. Now more than ever, I wanted to vent over bottle of wine with Alice and Bella under a blanket.

"Sorry, but I have to. Besides, I think this collection will be it! You might get a real job from me after all!" She knew how to get me.

"Alright, go get it. Hurry back though, I am bored."

"Entertain yourself."

"With what? Nothing's on TV today, and my computer is freaking out."

"Hmm..." she thought to herself. "Annoy Dickwad."

"Okay!" I jumped up like a child offerd candy. "Bye Alice!" She giggled, and left. I raced to my room, and banged my fist against the wall.

"Hey Dickwad! Now I am the one making the noise!" I heard his radio playing in the background, and the volume increase. "You're going to have to try harder than that!" I flipped on my massive stereo, and blared Barbie Girl at full blast. I heard Dickwad turn up his radio, and heard him curse when he realized mine was significantly louder than his. Of course, that was not nearly good enough. I dragged the karaoke machine Alice had bought last Christmas for us into my room, and plugged in the microphone. I waited until the song began, and started to sing very badly on purpose to annoy Dickwad.

_Hiya Barbie!_

_Hi Ken!_

_Do you want to go for a ride?_

_Sure Ken!_

_Jump in!_

_"_I'm a Barbie Girl, in a Barbie world

Life is plastic, it's fantastic

You can brush my hair, undress me everywhere

Imagination, life is your creation."

"NO!" Dickwad groaned in agony.

"Haha! I get revenge!" I shouted between verses.

"I'm a blonde bimbo girl, in a fantasy world

Dress me up, make it tight, I'm your dolly

You're my doll, rock 'n roll, feel the glamour in pink

You can touch, you can play, if you say, I'm always yours!"

"Oh, it's on, Psycho Bitch!" His muffled voice reeked anger from behind the wall.

"Rot in noisy hell, Dickwad!"

"Screw you!"

"Ha, you wish!"

"Come on, let's go!"

"Excuse me?"

"Not you, Psycho Bitch!"

"Oh, the voices in your head talking to you again?"

"No! Speak!" He said to what could only be his friend.

"Uh, hi?" A timid voice echoed through the wall.

"Aww, you like the shy boys!" This was just too good. I was so glad I took Alice up on her suggestion. Maybe I didn't have to get him evicted, perhaps he would _want_ to leave first after a few weeks with me next door.

"Hey! We're just friends!"

"Sure, that's what they all say. Well, you boys have fun!" I heard them storm off, and continued to sing loudly to Aqua. A few minutes later, I heard that they had gone, and turned off the stereo. Knowing he would find a way to retaliate against me even worse than I had against him, I dialed the landlord's number.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Mr. Greenwald, this is one of your tenants in 31 D, Rosalie Hale."

"Ah, Miss Hale. What can I do for you?"

"Well, one of the tenants in the apartment next to my bedroom is excessively loud."

"Would you like to make a complaint?"'

"Yes, I would." I was grinning evilly.

"Alright. What is their apartment number?" Oh crap.

"No...but it is the unit that backs up to the third bedroom..."

"I am sorry, but I cannot file a complaint without an apartment number."

"But don't you have like, a blueprint or something you can look on?"

"No, I am sorry..."

"But you have no idea! He plays video games in the middle of the night! He sings badly! He bangs on the wall! He is making my life a living hell!"

"I am sorry, Miss Hale, but I can't do anything without an apartment number."

"Sorry. Thanks anyway."

"Goodnight Miss Hale."

"Night, Mr. Greenwald."

If I couldn't get Dickwad evicted, I would have to make him leave. All I had to do was play a few more CDs. I walked back to my stereo, and flipped it on when suddenly, it turned back off. The lights flickered to make the apartment pitch black, and the windows allowed no city lights through its glass panes. A blackout. Great. Electricity had died, and I was alone. I was forced about one hundred and fifty years back in technological time, and Bella was stuck in the office, and Alice most likely in the subway. Shit. My life sucked.

I cursed a string of profanities as I wound through my furniture, hitting my leg on the tables and my head on door frames and walls. Tripping over the coffee table, I landed sprawled out on the red couch, smacking my head on the armrest.

"Ow!" I shreiked to no one in peticular. Making my way over to the kitchen, I searched for a flashlight. My fingers fiddled around the corners of drawers, and some sort of cord wrapped around my wrist in the process. Startling me, I shook my hand trying to get it off. I pulled something weighted off of the counter that was invisible to me, and winced at the sound of the plastic crashing to the floor, and then the crack.

"Shit!" I screamed at the highest pitch I could manage. Finally finding the drawer with the emergency flashlight, I pulled it open and searched inside. I had forgotten, however, this drawer was the same that held miscellaneous knives that were rarely used. The sharp edge of a blade found my searching fingers, sending a small rush of warm blood over my palm. I cursed again, and kicked the cabinet door. With my bleeding hand, I found the flashlight and clicked it on. Though the switch was flipped, the beam I expected did not shine over the darkness. Instead, a short, dim, flickering light started to life, then quickly died it its last glint of light.

I knew we were out of fresh batteries, and my only other option were the various lighters and candles we kept around the apartment. Stumbling over the shattered mess by my bare feet, I found the stove lighter. Due to the fact that the auto-ignite was broken, we had to light the stove with an open flame. Snatching the long lighter, I flicked it on, and made my finger ache with the pressure of holding down the button. Holding the flame so the wind would not extinguish it, I raced to the candles that were on the holders beside the dormant TV, I touched the flame to the wicks and watched as they multiplied themselves to the white strings. The illumination made me feel slightly better, and I sought out the other candles.

Within minutes, the room was aglow with yellow candlelight, making for a deceptively romantic setting. Being reminded of my sliced hand by the burning that formed a straight line across my palm, I took an emergency, dripless candle with me to the bathroom as they did in olden times, and washed my hand free from blood. Remembering we had run out of band-aids, not that anything less than gauze would stop the flowing, scarlet liquid that seeped from my veins, I sought out an old dish towel. I wrapped it around my hand, though it was soon soaked until it too was red. I sat on the couch, holding another towel between it and the blood hand I carressed, and fidgetted anxiously when it would not cease.

This was not a night I wanted to go to the ER, and I prayed it would stop. I looked at my cell phone, and told myself that if it did not clot in five minutes I would go to the hospital that was probably bursting with patients with injuries similar to mine. Tapping my foot in boredom, I turned on my crappy iPod and blared the headphones so they were audible without being inside my ears. Finally, one minute before my self-proclaimed deadline, the leeking of blood stopped, and I washed off the browned, dried blood from my hand. I now could clearly see the slit the knife had made, and cringed at the pain that even Neosporin brang. This sort of thing did not happen to me, it happened to Bella. She had given me her clumsiness for the night! Where was she anyways, I wondered.

Poor Bella and Alice! They were probably stuck in traffic or some other god-awful place. I dialed their numbers, yet all I heard were their chipper voicemail recordings, telling me they were not in service. At least I was stuck at home, I told myself, and that they probably had it worse off than me. I lit the rest of the candles, and walked to the kitchen to investigate the crash of plastic.

"No! Not Mr. Coffee!" There on the floor were the shattered remains of Bella's beloved coffee maker, whom we had named after its brand. This black contraption was the life source for Bella, who hated the long lines at Starbucks and The Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf, and without it I feared she would not function. Seeing it was far from being able to be repaired, I left it be, not wanting to bleed from anywhere else, and walked back into the living room.

I had drained my iPod's battery power within an hour, and resorted to singing show tunes to keep myself occupied. As I sang, I thought about other options of entertainment.

"This is the story, of a man named Brady..." _Could I go out somewhere? No, their power will be off too. _

"Tomorrow! Tomorrow! I love ya, tomorrow! You're only a day away!" _Could I borrow Alice or Rose's iPod? No, they took theirs with them._

"I'll be there for you...like I've been there before, I'll be there for you...'cause you're there for me toooooo..." _Could I read one of Bella's books? Too dark. _

"Live from New York! It's Saturday Night!" I ended with my revised version. "Live from New York! It's Monday night, and Rosalie is in hell!"

I waited for hours while singing very badly until it made my own head ache, when finally the lights in the room blared to life, hurting my dialated eyes. I shrieked in joy, and danced around the room as I blew out the candles, and waited for Alice and Bella to arrive.

About half an hour later, in came my two roommates who must have run into the other on their way home. Alice looked angry, yet somewhat satisfied, with a large red mark on the side of her face and cradling her right hand that was crumpled into a claw-like fist. Beside her, Bella was stumbling looking dazed with an empty wine bottle with a straw sticking out of it swinging from her right hand. The thing they had in common in their disheveled appearances were that they laughing hysterically. What the hell had I missed? Where were they while I repeatedly hurt myself stuck in a dark apartment? Alice looking like she got in a bitch fight, and Bella somewhat drunk and her 24 hour kissable lip gloss slightly smeared around the corner of her lips. What the hell?


	7. Don't Judge Me

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Author's Note:**Sorry that it took me so long to write, it was a difficult week at school. Also, this is one of those necessary chapters that may not be the greatest, but has to be for the story to work.. I have had many requests for Jasper's point of view to explain Tanya in the last chapter, and don't worry, that comes next! Thanks for all of your great reviews! And don't ask me why I underlined sox. Long story.

**Elevators, Blackouts, and Strangers**

**Chapter 7- Don't Judge Me**

**Bella**

I had walked the entire way back to the apartment with my head in the clouds. I had no need to hail a cab, for I was floating in my mind. The wine bottle swung from my arm as I smiled like a love-drunk school girl. Though I was sad about Edward having left without numbers being exchanged, I told myself, convincingly, that it was for the best, and if it were meant to be it would be. He could be a creep recently released from prison or an insane asylum for all I knew. He could be a murderer, or an adulterer, or a male gold digger, or...or a really handsome, smart, sexy, intuitive man who knew me better than I knew myself and didn't want me. I did not want to be set up for that kind of disappointment, and I was content with leaving things the way they were. The more time passed since last I saw those green eyes the more I was sure that he was not for real. Those sexy smiles he flashed were mutilated in my memory, his voice was interfered by my own mind, and the things he said were only to entertain himself, and to make a fool out of me.

It did not matter if he used me, or if he truly meant those things he said. I was impulsive for once, and let go of my inhabitions long enough to enjoy myself with someone who wasn't balding or horribly obnoxious for once. I kissed a man that normally would not give me the time of day unless he wanted to look good in front of his supermodel girlfriend who he would take to his apartment that night and ditch her the next day. The only problem with that was that did not seem like Edward.

I tried to convince myself that I was biased, and unable to make these decisions about the mysterious man in the elevator, only that too sounded inaccurate. Perhaps it was how well he knew me or the things we talked about but it felt as if I knew him too. Most of what we spoke of that night was about me, and my life with only my short interjections about his friends, where he grew up and his lack of a love life. If only I was pushy rather than stubborn, maybe he would have told me something about himself that would ease my craving to hear his stories, or even just his voice.

How many people named Edward could have recently moved to New York City with two men named Emmett and Jasper? They could not be that hard to find with names and figures like those...No, told myself. No matter how hott this man was or how insightful into my life that was suddenly clear and organized before me, like a knotted ball of yarn unwound, I would not stoop so low as to officially hire a private investigator and officially become his stalker. Google him, yes. Just to make sure I was not stuck with a lunatic in an elevator, and to make sure he was who he said he was. Not that there would be any way to verify it, but if I did not do it, the idea would hang over my computer screen every time I checked my email or typed up my editing notes.

No. I would not allow myself to do that either. The less I knew, the less I would want to know, and the less obsessive I would become. Was it that hard for me to accept things as they were? Yes, it would be hard. Hard, but not impossible. Besides, what good would it do to find out who he was? What would happen? Would I call him, saying I found his number on Google? That would earn me only a restraining order. What if we ran into each other? Manhattan was not large in feet and inches, only in population, it could happen. What would happen then? We exchange numbers, say awkward hellos, date even? What would we talk about? Yeah, I had a great time kissing you in a dark, candlelit elevator...want to meet up for a drink?

With this internal debate, I convinced myself that staying put, and away from would be the best thing to do. I was still elated from the experience; did I want that to fade all because I wanted more? It was like eating dark chocolate, the first bite you take makes heaven seem not so far away, but when the bar is finished with only remanents left on your fingers, you can almost feel the calories, and even your stomach tells you it was too much. Leave it at what the label tells you. That would be what I would do, only eat what I was allowed.

The doorman opened the glass door to the lobby of the apartment building in which I resided with a friendly nod, and a strange look at the wine bottle dangling from my fingers. He looked me up and down, evaluating my condition. He had never seen me like this, and I feared to see my own reflection in this state.

"Don't judge me Herbert. I was just staying hydrated. You would be wise to do the same." That was the alcohol speaking. I must have looked quite strange at that moment, for as my words were said the hair on my neck tingled and stood on end. I had the paranoid suspicion that someone was behind me, and they were tall, for the shadow before me loomed over mine like helpless prey's last sight before claws dug into their skin.

"Hello, Bella." A low, intentionally eerie voice whispered in my ear. The shock of the sound sent me whirling around, my bottle armed with my elbow bent ready to send the glass into the attacker's head. Yet as my mind became sure of who it was that stood behind me, my racing pulse began to slow, though not lessen its intensity, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

"Oh, it's you. Don't scare me like that, you should know better than that." I sat down on the couch beside me, as my 'stalker' began to laugh hysterically, and lept off of the chair beside the seat I rested on.

"Have a little fun, Bella, although it looks like you already have..." The giggling black shadow that had nearly sent me into cardiac arrest shifted into the shape I knew well, with jet black hair and a high pitched voice that I knew belonged to Alice. She pointed her long, pale finger toward the wine bottle, and looked at me suspiciously. Suddenly, a widening grin was clear on her thin lips, and excitement sent her bouncing in her seat. "Oh, do you have a story to tell to Rose and I!"

"There's nothing to tell." I lied, with a sigh at the end, yet Alice knew better. She tilted her head to the side, and gave me a knowing look with her dark eyes. I was a terrible liar, but even if I could surpass a polygraph test saying I was the world's next volleyball champion, she would know otherwise, even without the bumps in the head she received over the years. She knew, and she was not letting me out of this. "Okay, fine. Wait until we get back to the apartment so I don't have to say it twice." I said, twisting side to side as I stood, balancing myself between the shifting walls and floor beneath me.

"I knew it!!" Alice squealed as she bounded beside me. Being careful so as not to stagger noticeably through the lobby of my residence, I made my way slowly into the amazingly plain-seeming elevator of our building, with Alice skipping excitedly beside me. Something had happened with her, though she was hyper in the extremes on an average day, her face was bright and sparkling from something other than personality. Had she experienced something similar as I had? Could our luck have both changed for the better in one night? _Had_our luck changed for the better? Even without the elevator incident, as I was now tempted to call it for lack of a better word, my promotion was something completely unexpected, our apartment costed less than we ever would have thought possible, could these be the true fruits of our labor?

Alice and I walked into our apartment in time to find Rosalie with her hand coated in dried blood and an aggravated look on her face. Had she been alone in here the entire time?

"Well, it's about time! Do you know how bored I've been?" Rose said as she walked up to us from the couch.

"Oh my god, Rose, are you alright? What happened to your hand?" Alice said to her as she skipped to her side. Rosalie only rolled her eyes and yanked it away.

"Oh, nothing, just sliced my palm looking for the flashlight with the dead batteries. Tell me, what happened to you? You both look like the night of the living dead. " At that, I began to laugh, seeing my disheveled reflection in the mirror beside the door. Strangely, the laughter would not stop, and as I wobbled over to the couch that seemed to move side to side before me I began to hiccup.

"Bella's a little tipsy tonight." Alice said, giggling. The few times I ever drank too much were the times that Rosalie and Alice were the most amused with me. I supposed I could not blame them, being mostly the adult of the group, but it still got on my nerves. Why, I did not really know, but whatever the cause, I had to set the tone back to what it was; that I was the responsible person here, though I could hardly believe it myself. What kind of person allows themselves to kiss a random stranger in an elevator? One like me, who could not be called responsible any longer. Such was that of romance, short lived as it was.

Rose sauntered over to me in her usual stride, raising an eyebrow at me as Alice gave an exaggerated wink.

"What has Bella been up to? Wine through a straw, smeared lipstick that is guaranteed to last through everything, an entire day, drinking water...except kissing!!" She exclaimed as she realized my secret. "You kissed someone? Who? Where? Were you two stuck together somewhere?"

"I never said I kissed anyone." I said with no effect or emotion. I knew it was too late, she knew, and I would have to tell.

"You didn't have to! Come on, I don't care if I have to duct tape you to a chair, you're telling us. Sit. Talk." Rose guided me to the couch and forced me down upon it by pressing down on my shoulder.

"Alright, alright. Just don't make a big deal out of it, because it isn't a big deal, it's actually a somewhat small deal..."

"Bella, you're rambling." Alice corrected, sitting beside me, leaving me between my two friends.

"Fine. Well, I was stuck in an elevator with this guy named Edward..."

"_Edward_?" Rosalie asked, sounding disgusted by the sound.

"I know, but he pulls it off, trust me." Their giddy smiles returned to their faces, and they folded their legs underneath them. "Anyway, we were both trapped there in the dark..."

I continued the remaining length of my story, their eyes widening and their breaths catching with every sentence of mine or his I repeated. It felt like an hour that I spoke, but seeing the clock it had only been fifteen minutes. Was that all? Could the entire experience be explained in so few words, and so few minutes? I now began to think more and more that it was a hallucination, and not as significant as I thought it to be.

"Wow. So...what happened? At the end, I mean." Alice asked me, calming her jumpy mood.

"Nothing." I answered as I sighed. "We were separated in the confusion, and then that's it."

"The guy didn't even ask for your phone number? What, was he from a time before phones or something?" Rosalie asked, sounding a bit perturbed.

"I don't know, we never really got to that. I'm sure he would otherwise...I think...maybe. Doesn't matter really, because I will never see him again. Alice, don't even say the word Google."

"Just trying to help." Alice said with her hands raised defensively. "Don't you want to though?"

"No, I kissed an amazingly gorgeous, single, smart, intuitive guy in a dark elevator after we talked about the deepest parts of our lives, who did not try to go farther than I allowed, and I don't want to see him again." I said with a sarcastic edge to my voice.

"Haha very funny." She said.

"Can I get out of the hot seat now? Your turn." I said, pointing to the pixie next to me.

"I guess that's fair. Okay, there weren't any cabs running, so I had to take the subway..."

"Ew." Rosalie and I said in unison.

"I know. Anyways, I kinda started dancing in the train, and well, to make a long story short, I ended up landing on top of this guy, when his girlfriend showed up."

"And?" I asked, not pressing the details but rather the ending. The only important part was the ending, because that was the only part that was concrete, cemented into time and memory, and most of all had the longest lasting effect.

"Well, she uh...slapped me."

"I hope you slapped that bitch back!." Said Rose.

"No...I didn't feel like it was fair..."

"Some random chick smacks you and you think it isn't fair?" She said again.

"...it wasn't fair for me to _slap_ her back. I punched her in the nose. I think I might have broken it..."

"Yeah Alice! Amazon woman!"

"Wow Alice, I didn't know you had it in you." I said, still shocked that someone as gentle and, to be frank small, as Alice could punch a girl in the face.

"Neither did I! Of course you could imagine how mad I was, the guy having a girlfriend while he danced with me, but now I'm over it."

"Well that was...vague." Rosalie said with faint disappointment.

"It wasn't that interesting really. So Rose...how was your ni-?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"You need some ice or something for your hand? Looks painful." I asked as I headed toward the kitchen.

"Thanks Bella." Suddenly, I stopped in the middle of the kitchen, dumbfounded by the sight I saw.

"What...did...you...do?" I stammered.

"Shit!" I heard from the living room.

"What's wrong Bell-oh my god."

"You...killed...him."

"What? That's my blood on the counter, besides the only person I would kill would be Dickwad and he wasn't here tonight."

"You killed Mr. Coffee." The shattered remains of my life source lay in peices across the tiled floor, making a sort of mosaic of black plastic and clear glass. "ROSALIE!" I yelled as I shook her shoulders with my hands. "Do you know what this means? I am going to have to go to Starbucks! You know how crowded that place is!" My voice lowered into a whine, knowing if I was going to survive the early mornings with caffeine, ironically, I would have to wake up a half an hour earlier than usual.

"I'm sorry, the cord just wrapped around my wrist...there was nothing I could do."

"I know. Look, I'll just buy a new one tomorrow or something." I gave her a hug, telling her of my forgiveness.

"Wow. It's like you and Bella switched lives." Alice said.

"Thanks Alice."

"No, she's right." I looked at the blond with a grimace. "I get hurt, and you get stuck in an elevator with a hott guy. So not fair."

"Yeah, I guess, but if it was _you_ in the elevator, it would have been more than a kiss." I said, gently elbowing her as I walked by.

"I resent that. Probably true, but I still resent it." The phone rang with a shrill note in the living room as we sat back down on the couch, making me groan with having to get up again.

"Hello?" I answered.

"Bella, this is Angela."

"Oh, hi! Is everything okay? It's pretty late."

"Yes, it is, and I am sorry for the hour, but I wanted to make sure you were alright." She was so sweet! Why hadn't I called Rose or Alice after I got out of the elevator?

"I'm fine, and I was not even close to sleep."

"Good, well, I wanted to tell you that you do not have to come in tomorrow."

"Okay...um...why?" I asked, confused. Wasn't tomorrow the day I was supposed to meet the mysterious new author? Wasn't that the reason I had to clip newspapers all day? Nothing made sense anymore.

"Our elevator apparently got stuck last night, and they are still working out some of the technical issues. Besides, one of the buildings next door got robbed, and nothing was really taken but with the police blocking half the street I thought it would be best to keep only necessary personnel here to take care of details."

"Thanks Angela. I have so much to do today, to tell you the truth." Like buying a coffee machine...

"Actually, do you mind coming in for about an hour?"

"Sure. What do you need?"

"Oh, not much. Just to make sure nothing was taken from your office."

"Alright. Angela?"

"Yes?"

"Will the new author be there?" I asked hesitantly, wanting to know if I would have to play dodge Newton.

"I think he just might be. You'll love him! To be honest, he is quite the looker!"

"You are a married woman!" I said teasingly. Sure, Mike was obnoxious to the extreme, but he was considered to be attractive by the general population.

"Oh, I am only being subjective! So come by when you have a few minutes, and be sure to say hi!"

"Sure. Bye Angela."

We hung up, and after an hour I crept into my bed, and fell asleep around two in the morning.

My alarm rang as usual, only today it was set for ten, instead of the horrific hour of five. Still somewhat groggy despite the eight hours of sleep, I slowly got up and showered for twice the length of time that I allotted during the week. For some reason, I took extra care blow drying my hair, and used the magnifying mirror belonging to Rosalie for even the simplest of mascara strokes. Standing in the closet looking for something to wear, I looked over my wardrobe. Nothing seemed good enough for some strange reason, and every designer label looked about as dull as from that of a department store. Surrendering to something I would never live down, I walked into the living room where Alice was sketching again.

"Alice? I kinda need your help." I said with my towel still wrapped around me. Her face lit up instantly with my words, and she clapped her tiny hands together and pulled me back into the closet we all shared.

"Oh! I am so excited! Let's see..." She threw clothes out of my organized drawers, and hangers littered the ground. I couldn't imagine why I was going through so much trouble, especially when I was just going to work for an hour at the most, but still, the day seemed anything but ordinary. I decided to blame it on the late hour, and last night making me want to be sexy. Shaking my head from the word that described anything but me, I concentrated on the clothes that were being held up to me.

"Here, wear this! You are going to look perfect! So...what's the occasion?" She asked me, wagging her eyebrows up and down.

"Nothing. I guess I just...just want to get asked out by someone before Mike asks me-yet again."

"Still hoping the author isn't him, huh?"

"Well of course! How could he be? He is an awful writer, has no charisma, and his only redeeming quality is that everything he does is legal."

"True." She said as she looked through the rows of shoes that had mostly been purchased by herself for me.

"But how could he not be? He said he had a job at the Times! That was the only open position I know about! And worse, Angela said last night the author was a guy, and he was good looking! Who else could it be?"

"Gee, who in this entire world could be a good looking guy who can write worth a damn? Yup, only Newton." Alice said, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she withdrew a pair of brown, distressed leather boots.

"Haha very funny. It is just too coincidental for my taste."

"Sorry Bells. I hear Rosalie has a great shrink if you need it. Here, wear these." She tossed me a pair of socks from the drawer, and sitting on the carpeted ground I slid them on my damp feet. Alice turned around so I could change and vent at the same time.

"I might have to do that. God, out of all the attractive male writers in New York why _him_? Why _me_? Why me _and_ him in the same place! Five days a week! Forever!"

"Mhmm." I could tell she was getting bored with my rants as I slid the dark blue, silky blouse over my head and slid on the gray skirt over my hips. I looked at the unfamiliar socks, never having remembered the pair of gray and pink cotton socks with the logo stamped above the toes reading 'Rox my Sox'.

"What's with the weird socks, Alice?"

"Oh, my friend in LA went to Universal City Walk, and got me like twenty pairs from the Sock Market."

"I see." I said as I looked through the drawer filled with Spongebob and polka dotted socks. "Thanks for your help. I have to go to the office. Wish me luck that Newton has been fired."

"Good luck." She said. "Oh, get band aids. I can't be taking you _and_ Rose to the ER now."

"Thanks a lot. Make sure you get her cut looked at, it might need stitches."

"You would know."

"Exactly. Leaving. Bye." We hugged briefly, and I grabbed my suitcase and was out the door. Feeling better than I had for a while, I walked to Starbucks with my head held higher than usual, and a slight smile on my lips. I definitely needed to start dating again, if this was what you felt like afterwards. I ordered a latte, nothing fancy or cliche, and found myself in front of my office building. As Angela had said, police scoured the area beside it, and I had to show my ID just to get in the door. Construction workers fought with New York's finest as they both tried to do their jobs beside the other, including hoisting a window-cleaner high above the sidewalk. After winding through the chaos, I took the overly-familiar elevator up to my floor.

It was the same I had been in last night, only it was so different. The crews who cleaned up the technical mess had scraped up the candle wax from the marble floor, making it shine spotlessly. Feeling completely stupid and immature, I clicked the stop button on the elevator between floors. The jolt was the same, only this time it remained light.

Slowly, I sat down in the spot I had only about thirteen hours earlier. Something was missing. It was obvious what it was, of course, but this time it was felt not in my sight, but in my chest. I stood up, shaking the idiotic feeling from my shoulders. I hurriedly clicked the button on the elevator, and urged it to go faster. Maybe I would be forced to take the stairs if this was what was going to happen to me every time I took the glass elevator. The number of my floor was read in red, digital letters above the door, and not a moment too soon.

Angela was bustling around the office with a rapid speed, looking over personal items and talking to the police about the safety of the vault. I found my office, and wound past a few other people who were called in to check on their cubicles and shut the door behind me. Without looking up, I searched through my desk and checked my computer. Everything was how I left it. I breathed a sigh of relief, and looked up to nearly have a heart attack.

"Gah!" I exclaimed as I saw the man outside my window. A large, silver pulley cart was positioned right outside my outer wall made of glass. The man scrubbed the window with intent, his large muscles contracting beneath his russet skin. Wearing only a wife-beater tank top, baggy jeans, a tool man's belt, and a yellow hard hat, I could not help but stare. I did not let my eyes linger too long, not wanting to be rude while not knowing if, or to what degree, the windows were tinted. Someone knocked on my door and I called them in, sitting myself in my chair and slowing my heartbeat.

"Bell-wow." Jessica sauntered into my office as she took in the sight of the 6'1 man. Her mouth was agape, and her eyes clouded over in her fantasy.

"Jessica? What can I uh..do for you?"

"These are from Angela." She handed me a pile of papers, her eyes still locked on the man.

"Em, thanks." I waved my free hand in front of her face, and she slowly turned around and walked out of my office. As my door opened, a cluster of women surrounded my door, amazed at the sight that cleaned bird droppings off of my window.

"Would you look at that." A redheaded woman known as Mrs. Cope said as she stormed by me and began to stare. I would not be surprised to see drool form at the corner of her mouth.

"Talk about a sight for sore eyes." Another said; a woman whose nickname was 'turkey neck'.

"Oh my god..." Yet another said. Within a few minutes, my office was packed with ogling women.

"Um, guys please? I have to leave and I have to lock my office...so can you all...go somewhere...else maybe?" I said with no success. Groaning in frustration, I walked over to Jessica. "Who is that?" I asked, hoping she was not in knowledge of this.

"His name is Jake. He comes by everyday, but the last one who had this office never let us inside when he was here...mmmm so nice to have him back."

"Great. But why does he come here everyday? It can't get that dirty. And how tinted is that window?"

"Oh, there's a woman across the street in the other building that has a window across from this that opens. Last year she shot this place with a water gun filled with dyed water so he would have to clean it up. We don't know how she does it, but we don't complain. He can't see us, but if we yell loud enough he can hear us. He likes it."

"I see. Sorry to disappoint everyone, but you have to go. I have to buy a coffee machine, and...you just have to go!" I said, standing on top of my desk.

"Fine. Such a whiner..." Jessica mumbled as she left.

"It's all about her now."

"Why should she get all of the view?"

"I wonder how much I could buy this office for..."

"Thanks, bye." I said as I shut the door behind the crowd, locking the door. I waited for them to leave, and then for Jake to leave. He was awe-worthy, that was for sure, but his childish face lacked what I wanted; a man. A man like, dare I think it? Edward. It didn't matter how much I suppressed the thought, it was still true. Ten minutes later, I was en-route to the Coffee Bean.

I ordered another latte, hoping it would make my drowsiness go away. I was never this tired, and I did not like it. It did, however, explain to me a lot about Rosalie. As I waited for my drink, another name was called.l

"I have a double espresso for Edward?" My heart stopped .My head whipped around wildly as I searched for the bronze-haired man "Edward? I have a double espresso for Edward?" The girl behind the counter looked around hopelessly, and shrugged as she set down the cup. "I have a latte for Bella?" I snatched my cup, and stormed out the doors in frustration. It had to be another Edward, there was sure to be more than one in New York. It was strange, for a moment later it felt like someone was watching me...


	8. The Most Beautiful Name Unknown

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Author's Note: **This chapter is a little shorter than usual, and this is due to writer's block. You all know what happened, I just had to explain some things with good old Jazz. I wanted to make some funny bickering to ease into humor after seeing how intense my last chapters were getting. Don't worry, to all of you begging for more of Bella and Edward, that is next! Don't forget to add me on MySpace! The link is on my profile.

**Elevators, Blackouts, and Strangers**

**Chapter 8- The Most Beautiful Name Unknown**

**Jasper**

My face burned with embarrassment as blood rushed through my cheeks. That poor, sweet, amazingly beautiful girl I had been dancing with now thought that she was 'the other woman'. Though a dance did not really count as cheating, especially since Tanya wasn't my girlfriend, I still felt guilty. Not only had she been in a compromising situation, though not one that I loathed in the slightest, but she had been smacked across the face by a random freak. In too many books that I had read, the author spoke of the character's heart being broken, shattered right down the middle. I would never feel that feeling, and it sounded infinitely more pleasant than what I felt now. Instead of a clean break, it felt as if two people had taken hold of the corners of my chest, and slowly walked backward until it wore away into two pieces, their jagged edges raw and aching. This was the pain I had to endure as I watched the tiny girl walk away in defeat.

Jolting me back to reality, Tanya stomped over toward me, swaying with the lack of balance brought on by the moving train, and eyes like razor blades. Standing over me like a boxer who had won, she tapped her foot with her hands resting on her hips once more, expecting something I would never give her. My eyes darted between her and the retreating girl, unable to keep my thoughts from straying to the stranger who made me feel at home in this marvelously alien city. Why did this poor girl have to suffer for this...this _thing_ standing over me? And where did Tanya get off slapping someone she did not even know? Things like that should be reason for arrest...that was when something I never expected happened.

The dark haired woman stopped before the adjacent car, her back still toward me. Without Tanya taking notice, she turned around with a tiny smirk on her reddened face, and reached up on her toes to tap the lunatic on her shoulder. Whipping her head around to see who had touched her, her eyes met only that of a tiny, yet powerful, fist flying toward her nose with impressive force. The entire car began to clap and applaud, and I almost expected the pixie-like girl to curtsie before her audience. I knew better, however. Maybe I jumped to conclusions about the battery arrest policies? She did not seem like the type who hit people for attention; she danced for attention. Strange, I had completely forgotten my claustrophobia...this is until Tanya turned around. I could have been standing in a field of only grass for miles, and claustrophobia would have crippled me if she was anywhere near. With blood slowly seeping out her nose, and her fingers pinching the bridge of it, her enraged eyes turned to mine once more.

"Get up you woos." I resented what she said, but after a nod from Emmett I picked myself up off the floor, being immediately disgusted with the layer of grime on my jacket.

"What the hell are you thinking Tanya? You can't just go around smacking people!" I said to her with genuine anger. It was because of her immature, and illegal, actions that I did not even this girl's name, which would surely prove to be the most radiant sound to ever be spoken by lips of any other than an angel.

"Excuse me? May I remind you that you were under that _slut_when you are supposed to be with me!" She flipped her strawberry blond hair to the side, trying to make herself feel pretty. All she did was shake the crazy around.

"Uh, Tanya? First, we dated a week. Second, we _broke up_!" These words were evidently not in her understanding, as was made clear to me the last time I tried to tell her this. Last week, in fact.

"So? That doesn't mean we still can't go out." My face felt as if someone threw a dirty sock into it; completely confused, bewildered, and as my head jerked back at the surprise, I threw up in my mouth.

"Yeah, it does. That's what happens when we break up!" Some of the other passengers began to inch away from the scene, perplexed looks on their faces, and I doubted they would be shocked if two men in white coats and needles came by. If only I could be lucky enough to sneak out of this hell hole. Tanya screwed her face into an ugly grimace, holding her chin up in pride.

"You know, Jazz, one of these days you're going to lose me." She turned on her heel, and strutted away. Silence flooded the car, making the situation more awkward than it had been when Tanya was there, that is until the somewhat frightening man with the boombox spoke what sounded like his first words in months. In his raspy, rarely used voice, he broke the quiet atmosphere.

"Damn, that is one crazy chick." We looked at him, somewhat startled at his words. He simply shrugged his shoulders, put his sunglasses back over his eyes, and responded with absolute nonchalance. "What? S'true."

A mammoth sized hand fell on my shoulder, making my knees bend beneath the force.

"Nice pick Jasper."

"Piss of Emmett. This happened because of your brilliant idea to force me on the subway." I snarled at him with a hint of a teasing edge to my voice.

"Yeah, because of me some really hot girl who you were screwing with your eyes landed on top of you...total nightmare." Swatting his large hand off of me, I hurried toward the open doors, not caring where we landed, though infinitely thankful once I read the sign whose blue letters spelled 'Columbus Circle'. I knew very little to nothing about the maps of New York, but I knew we were still in Manhattan, not in Harlem, and within reasonable walking distance back to the apartment. I should have felt relieved, but the identity of the very tiny girl still evaded me, and I knew I had to find out who she was somehow. If I didn't then the men in white coats with needles would have to come for me instead.I had to know. But first, I had to shake off the irritation.

"How can you screw someone with your eyes? That is a biological impossibility Dickwad."

"You stole that from Psyco Bitch. Be original. Besides, do you really want to know the answer to that?" I pondered that for a moment.

"On second thought, nevermind. Let's just get home, it's nearly midnight and I am tired."

"It's not like you have to get up early tomorrow, live a little Hermit." I scowled at him. Haha I am not very social. Hilarious.

"I do, actually. I have to find out how one goes about getting a restraining order."

"Tanya?" Emmett asked me. I rolled my eyes as we ascended to fresh air, well, as fresh as humid, New York air can be this time of year. It was better than overly-breathed in Metro air, that was for sure.

"No, for the hot girl that was on top of me. Yes, Tanya."

"You don't think?" Emmett asked with his eyebrows raised.

"Think what? Speak." Beside us a dog began to bark convulsively, with its owner cursing at us under her breath, which I ignored.

"Well, what if Tanya is Psycho Bitch? I mean it makes sense...she wouldn't know it was me, and they both have fallen off the looney train. It all adds up! Holy shit! I have to move now! Thanks Jasper."

"For what? You think I _want_ her around? Do you think I am brain dead?" I answered.

"No, for being so desperate that you had to hook up with _that_."

"Because you made me! Besides, she looked normal at the bar."

"Still your fault."

"Whatever. I can still make you the new poster boy for herpes if you want, all it takes is a phone call and a fax..." I threatened in a low voice.

"Did I mention how much I love you man?"

"Not that much. We don't want people to be waving rainbow flags at us. I really cannot afford to be called gay right now; I have to start dating again."

"Right. So...what should we do now?" Emmett had one fault, actually he was one giant fault, but one of his annoying traits was his attention that rivaled a three-year old's. I would not be surprised if he began to chant 'are we there yet'? That was what I had to listen the entire drive from Chicago to New York.

"I want to sleep. And breathe. And turn on the air conditioner to sixty degrees."

"Nah. You want to sleep in my hammock." Too tired to argue, I surrendered.

"Fine. If I fall, I reserve all rights to hang it back up and force you into it. God knows if that thing will break it will be under you, Colossus."

"Toothpick." We bickered the rest of the way back to his apartment, pausing only to watch a tipsy brunette stagger along the sidewalk and into an apartment building. That was not what was strange, however, nor was the wine bottle dangling from her hand, it was the dreamy look in her eyes. Staring into the starry space, her eyes were illuminated with a sort of drunken, inner glow. Emmett turned and started toward her, seeing an easy prey, but out of courtesy to the tipsy girl I pulled him back. I watched to make sure she got into the lobby alright, and was relieved when the doorman recognized her.

"Aww, come on, please mom?"

"Quit whining you beast." I said as I steered him away from the building.

"Why not? With that bottle in her hand she was asking for it."

"Give it a rest. And please, take that the way it was written--not derogatory to anything."

"Damn, you really have a stick up your ass tonight. What's up with you?" He asked, for once serious in his question.

"Do you really need to ask?" I asked him. "First, we get trapped in a subway. Then, I dance with a beautiful woman. Tanya shows up, slaps said beautiful woman, not giving me a chance to ask for her number, and then leaves me more paranoid than ever. Yeah, wonder why."

"Ah, it's the girl." He concurred. I sighed, for the first time showing how deep I was in.

"Course it's the girl. I just wish I knew her name." My head tilted toward the grey sidewalk as I spoke my regrets from within.

"Well, what do you _think_ her name is?" I looked at Emmett questioningly. "Well, you look like you would be named Jasper. What name suites her?"

"Hmm. Amanda? No, too much like a surfer girl. Something peppy, but still serious...short, like her. Uhh, Ann? Too conventional. Kim? Too common. Any help here?" I was asking Emmett for help? I must have been desperate.

"Er...Aly?" He offered. I thought about it for a moment, and shook my head. "Jane." He said.

"Nah, she's not simple enough to be a Jane."

"No, I mean, Jane Doe. That's what we'll call her."

"I like Subway Girl better than Jane Doe. They use that in hospitals for people who have been beaten badly enough to be unrecognizable." With this, Emmett went silent. He was sensitive about one thing only; my past. He was obnoxious, but still respectful in that aspect. Though I had never been a John Doe, I had heard of too many.

"Okay." Emmett said, breaking the silence. "Subway Girl. She was pretty cool, wasn't she?"

"Yeah." I agreed. "She certainly is." We strolled past hurried shop owners, fretting over their safes and tables that were not bolted to the ground. Wondering what had become of Edward, I pulled out my phone and dialed, with no answer. Flipping it shut, I turned my attention back to the newly illuminated city. The sky resumed its purple, hazy glow that never faded to the satin black I had only heard of, and not a star was seen. Instead of those inter-galactic spectacles that I had not seen for years, even in Chicago, the lights from windows of the skyscrapers dotted the line of buildings that made a clean cut edge to Central Park. The trees glowed with an olive tone in the fuzzy light, casting shadows both sinister and serene across the sidewalks and faces of passers-by. Leaves fluttered in the artificial breeze of cars fighting their way through the metallic packs, with drivers cussing and stretching their necks out the windows as if to gain that extra centimeter closer to their destination.

My hands shoved in my jeans, with only the sound of my own breathing registering in my mind, this time of chaos in a city so easily disturbed in its fine balance seemed more peaceful than any tropical beach. This was my white, powdery sands, this was my turquoise water, and the beautiful woman whose scent was still on my shirt was the sun that warmed my skin. Her smile literally brightened the car, whether it be her courageous dancing or rapping to what could have been her theme-song, something about her was more than intriguing; it created obsessions. Gazing into the distance, though staring at nothing that I saw, I did not realize I was smiling like a fool.

"What's with you Jasper?" Emmett said, smiling as he gently elbowed me.

"You know."

"Well, yeah, but you don't have to sing."

"I wasn't singing. My mouth was shut."

"Fine, you were humming."

"I was?"

"Like a damn choir boy."

"Huh. What was I humming?"

"Apple Bottom Jeans."

"Ah." I should have known. Now that he mentioned it, it was hard to keep from continuing to do so. "God, Em, what am I going to do?'' I asked hopelessly.

"Look, normally I would tell you to forget her, but you two are like, perfect for each other. Go for it."

"Well, I would except I have no idea who the hell she is!"

"Don't get your panties in a knot. How many adult women in New York are less then five feet tall with black hair?"

"Enough to make me miserable. This city has millions of people in it, there's nothing I can do." Emmett looked thoughtful for a moment, then came up with the most absurd answer yet.

"You can hunt down Tanya, and see if she has any of Subway Girl's skin cells on her, and send it in for a DNA test." I stopped in my place, and looked at him with wide, frightened eyes. "What? I watch a lot of CSI." I shook my head and continued on.

"People like you should be born sterile."

"Screw you."

"No thanks." He smacked me on the arm, and wee were finally in front of his apartment building. There were two sets of elevators; the north and south elevators. The southernmost entrance was the most popular, but the northern was the closest to Emmett's apartment. While we traveled to what he called his 'bachelor pad', I wondered if Google earth would help me out, but decided that would be too creepy. The last thing I wanted the next time, if there was to be a next time, was to come off as obsessed as I might be.

Suddenly, as Emmett fumbled with his keys, my phone rang, jarring me from my own little world.

"Hello?"

"Jasper? It's Edward."

"Hey man. What state are you in?"

"New York. I'm just heading to our place. Where are you?"

"I'm at Emmett's. Come over, I kind of have something to tell you."

"Oh, great, I do too." Silence.

"Um, okay. Have you been drinking?" I asked, hearing his words less articulate than usual.

"I'll explain later." Now I understood.

"Will we be expecting the scent of perfume when you get here too?" I grinned mischievously at Emmett as he picked up on my half of the conversation, his eyes lit with excitement.

"Eddie got la-id. Eddie got la-id." He danced around the room singing loud enough to be picked up by my phone.

"Shut up both of you. No, I didn't."

"You seriously depress me, virgin boy." Emmett yelled into the room, making sure Edward heard his remark. The line went dead.

"Nice." I said to Emmett.

"Come on, Jasper, it's not normal. Edward could have any girl he wanted; I mean do you know how many girls would throw themselves at him in high school?"

"That's not everything in life."

"Yeah, right, I mean how can you...dear god!"

"What?" I asked, laying down on the hammock.

"Don't tell me you and Edward have more in common than I thought!" He sat himself on the couch in shock.

"Please. Maybe I don't have the history that you do, but I am no Edward."

"Jealous?"

"No." He looked as if I had thrown a brick in his face. "There are more important things than that. Take Subway Girl, could you imagine her being the kind of person you leave in the morning?"

"Nah. She's the kind of chick you stick with."

"Exactly. I want the kind you stick with."

Swinging gently on the hammock, my thoughts wandered to the girl on the subway while football sounds emanated from the television. The plasma screen hung on the wall before me was plastered with moving sights of green, striped grass and yellow posts, with men crashing into each other with their padding creaking at the impacts, and coaches blowing whistles and yelling with such force their faces reddened. Emmett cursed under his breath, flopping on the couch he had tortured throughout the years. With my hands behind my head, I heard a door slam in the unit next to Emmett's room. I expected him to run off to tease 'Psycho Bitch', as he called her, but I believed that the night had taken its toll on him, and tiredness finally weighed down his lids.

Minutes passed, and a knock was heard at the door.

"It's open." Emmett yelled, staring dejectedly at the screen.

"Cannot believe you still don't lock your apartment..." I mumbled. Edward came into the room with an empty wine bottle in his hand, and an idiotic smile on his face. I knew that smile, for it rested on my face. "Hey Edward. What's with the drunken fool look you have going on?" I asked.

"It's a long story Jazz." He answered, still grinning madly.

"Well, I have no life, and plenty of time. Besides, I have something I need to say too." I answered, earning a chuckle from Emmett. At least my pathetic life amused him.

"Alright then, you first."

"Fine, as long as you will stop smiling." I answered. Emmett watched, still silent. Edward tried his hardest to make a serious face, but only ended up giggling furiously.

"Alright, alright. I got stuck in the elevator in the New York Times building with the most beautiful woman."

"What was her name?" Emmett asked, clicking off the TV and Tivo.

"Bella." He said. "The most beautiful name in the world."

"Yes." I agreed. Only I was thinking of a name that was still unknown to me.


	9. Poetry in an IM

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Author's Note: **During the IM sequence, the screenames are supposed to have the 'at' signs and .com, but they would not save correctly, so just pretend that they are there. Sorry for how long it has been since I have updated, but life got really crazy. I hope to post at least once a week from now on, but no promises. Also, please vote for your favorite stories on ./. None of my stories are nominated because none of them fit the categories, so this is not self-promotion but all of the authors who have been nominated deserve the love, and it is a good way to find more good fanfiction, which is becoming more and more rare.

**Elevators, Blackouts, and Strangers**

**Chapter 9-** Poetry in an IM

**Bella**

The monotonous, shrill sounds blaring from the alarm block beside my head jolted me from my dream-filled sleep. Though I did not remember the prescise visions that graced my internal sight, there was nothing within me that doubted what the shapes and shadows that slipped through the grasps of my memory formed. Rubbing my hand on my face, I felt my mascara smear around my face and fingers as I tried to recall recent events. What day was it? Monday was the day that the author failed to show for work, and Tuesday was the day that Angela had called me in to check on my office, while the other office woman checked out the window-washer, Jacob.

As the memory of Jake's nearly see through undershirt gave me a warm, tingling smile, I slid out of bed and strode to the closet. I withdrew a gray skirt that ruffled at the bottom, and a silky pink blouse that may have belonged to Rosalie at one time or another. It was not uncommon for the three of us to 'commandeer' each other's clothes, especially when ill-fitting the owner or having been chucked to the back of a drawer doomed to collect dust for who knows how long. After the steam from my shower began to dissapate, I dressed myself with a towel around my dripping hair and stepped into a pair of dangerously tall, grey seude Manolos that towered with a stable, thick heel.

I blow-dried my hair, I read the notes left by Alice and Rosalie the night before.

_Bella Babe-_

_Make sure you look hott today so you can knock your partner off his feet--assuming it is a guy of course--and not Newton_

_Give me a ring if you want to meet up for lunch_

_-Rose_

I grinned at the prospect of not eating lunch alone, and at the author being someone other than Mike. Of course, my imagination stretched itself to who the author _could_ be, not who I hoped it _would not _be. There was only one person that would suit the job in my opinion, and I did not even know his last name.

"Edward." I murmered, enjoying the sensation of his name rolling off his tongue. So soft, so velvety, and yet a subtle edge undetectable until only it is heard. My eyes were closed, and my heartbeats intensified as I willed myself back to the candle-lit elevator, with his eyes beside mine, his nose tracing my jawline as I steadied my breathing. Leaning in closer to me, his lips grazed against mine, and his fingers carressing my neck as our entire bodies began to touch. My mind stretched beyond what it had ever done before, blurring the edge between memory, and what I wanted to happen in the future.

I shook my head, hoping to shake out the relentless fantasies that made me ashamed of even thinking them, no less wanted to do them. Telling myself that it was normal, and anyone who met Edward would be crazy not to be thinking the things I thought, I read the note written by Alice on the mirror.

_Bella,_

_You need to buy new clothes. You have worn the same things you did two weeks ago, and for someone of your salary that is unacceptable. We are going shopping, whether you like it or not. I have duct tape. Pink duct tape, of course. Kidnapping has to be stylish if I am going to b doing it. _

_And I bought band-aids. And gauze. And burn cream. And liquid stitches. You should be fine until the end of the month. _

_Love ya,_

_Alice_

"No no no no noooooo." I moaned at the prospect of shopping. I knew when Alice insisted on adding to my wardrobe there was no going back. She would have her way, as she always did. It was something that she and Rosalie ahd in common; they were both spoiled with having whatever they wanted. The difference between them was, however, that Rosalie was _given_ anything she wanted, while Alice hunted it down, and would not rest until it was hers. In a way, it seemed like she was more deserving because of her motive, but they were both so good to me that they earned what they recieved. Earning everything worth having that could fit in our apartment, our out of the budgets of whoever gave them their gifts.

Grimacing at the shattered coffee-maker, I left half an hour earlier than usual in order to hit the Starbucks down the street. I ordered my usual drink, but even the alluring smell of coffee could not keep my thoughts from returning to Edward, and the strange feeling of being watched fell over me. I began to wonder if I was suffering from paranoia. Hurrying out of the suddenly creepy coffee shop, I slid through the glass doors and walked toward my office.

I stood in the marble lobby, waiting for the elevator to make its way to the ground floor, and at the same time hoping it would never come. The last thing I wanted was for my sanity to be compromised by once again, being held in the same space that held so many events that were important to my life. As much as I wanted to deny it, I knew the day that I forgot about Edward would be far in the future, if ever. It was not something you forgot, but that you just had to plow through and try not to remember as you get married to another man in ten years. It was the sort of thing you write in a diary for your children to read about when you die. It was a could-have-been, but never was. This was something I was determined to accept, and until I got over the man in the elevator, I would have to convince myself that he was not worth getting hung up on. I was horribly wrong of course, but I could lie to myself better than I could to the people around me, or so I hoped.

The bell rang from above the golden doors, and reluctantly, I stepped into the elevator. What made it less akward was that I was not alone. That same factor was what also made it more akward than if I had been alone. My hands trembled, and frustrated tears collected in the corners of my eyes. The buisiness men who occupied the space looked at me with strange expressions from the sides of their eyes, slowly inching away from me to the side as they pondered my sanity. If only they knew I was thinking the same thing.

_It was just an amazing kiss! You are never going to see him again, just enjoy the memory, and get over it Bella!_ I mentally screamed at myself. Knowing I would never have to face Edward again comforted me, giving me an odd sense of solace in sweeping the problem underneath a metaphorical bed and never having to deal with it again. Sure, the mess was not really clean, but it did not show, and it did not get in the way. That would have to be good enough for now.

The doors parted, and my feet seemed to move faster than the bit of coordination I had to allow me to walk upright. My heel caught in the crack between the elevator doors and the floor beside it. With my foot anchored to the metallic strip below and my body being yanked downward, my arms flew above my head as my hands clawed the air for something to grasp. With no luck, I squeezed my eyes shut and prepared myself for impact. Though my body collided with another solid object, it was not quite as hard as I expected it to be. Slowly opening my eyes, I saw the coorporate carpet inches away from my face, and a long arm curled around my torso. My rescuer pulled me back up, and freed my foot from its trap. I was always against animal cruelty, but I now had a particular sympathy for those who were unfortunate enough for their feet to get stuck in steel traps.

Collecting myself and sending my fingers flying through my hair, I thanked the man who had saved me from making a face plant into the carpet.

"Thanks." I began. "I am Bella Swan, and you are?" I asked as I straightened out my shirt, still not having looked up at the man.

"I know who you are." The voice answered. My heart sank within my chest and my stomach churned. Shit.

"Oh, I didn't see you. Thanks Mike."

"You haven't changed much Bella. Still..." He paused as he looked into my eyes, making me feel self-concious.

"What? Still clutsy you mean?"

"No. I was going to say still as beautiful as ever." From that moment I wished I hadn't said anything. Was it his goal in life to make me feel more akward than was normal for me? Or was it to practice his so called pick up lines? Hundreds of girls would have gone weak at the knees at these words, but even those of the poets of the ages said through the lips of a man unwanted were nothing more than the cheesy lines in a Hallmark card. This was no different. I supposed I was a little biased, considering who my 'rescuer' had turned out to be, but I could not help but think that Edward could spit out curses as Rosalie did, and the sound would be more enxhanting than anything Newton could say.

"And you are...just the same as ever. So, is this what you were talking about on the phone?" I asked. I now had no doubt that he did, in fact, work here.

"You know it! It's my first day here. Geez, sucks about the blackout, right?"

"Um, yeah, totally sucked." I lied through my teeth. Thankfully he was dim-witted enough to not be able to detect it. "Is your office on this floor too?" _Please say no, please say no..._

"Yeah, just down the hall actually." Damn it. "You, baby, are looking at the new director of custodial arts." Now, I was not a career specalist, but I was pretty sure that custodial arts were two long words for head janitor. Was this a hallucination, or could I actually be lucky enough to have a normal author, and Mike hired as a janitor? I bit my lips to keep from laughing, and looked back at Mike.

"I see. So, in lamens terms, that makes you...?"

"Well, ehm, a custodian...but I am also in charge of the others, and what goes in which closet, shifts and stuff like that. It's just until I get this new column job that opened up."

"Actually, the postition had been filled." ANother voice appeared beside me, instantly calming me. Angela stood beside me, creating a reasonable distance between Newton and myself.

"Oh. By who?" He asked the same question that I myself had wanted to ask.

"That does not concern you. What should concern you, however, is that you are an hour late on your first day, and you are not even in uniform yet. I am not even going to mention that you are not supposed to be keeping others from their work. Now, Micheal, if you want to keep this job, I suggest you start doing it. Bella, I have someone for you to meet."

Angela's threat had worked, sending Mike walking away like a dog with its tail between its legs, and his eyes drooping in dissapointment, knowing he would be doomed to work with a mop the rest of his time at The Times. Still revelling in repelling Mike, I followed Angela to her office to meet the new author. My stomach knotted and twisted in excitement, stretching my lips into a subtle smile. With the possibility of Mike being my new partner now being an impossibility, I found myself anxious to meet whoever it was.

"I'm sorry about that, Mike and I kinda went to High School together." I said.

"Don't be, I'm sorry you had to deal with him."

"Thanks for driving him away."

"I enjoyed it as much as you did. He is annoying, but he is also the only person who applied for the job after they found out there was going to be a urine test for drugs."

"Ah." I answered as we stepped behind the door to her office. Standing at the window, the white light of the sun allowed only the sight of the form of a very tall man standing before it. His hands were thrust into his pants pockets, and his hair was in careful dissaray.

"Bella Swan, meet the new author of The Arts column, Edward Cullen." My heart rose into my throat as she said this, making my hands tremble and my legs lose their sense of balance. Edward turned around slowly, his eyes widened as mine were. The sun behind him created a halo of brilliant rays around him, creating an angel in an Armani suit. His light green eyes were brilliant in their radiance; the sheer force of his beauty making me step backward into what could only have been a chair. As Edward turned around, the same heel that had imprisioned me between the elevator door and the office floor, wrapped around a chair leg, making my arms flail and my cheeks blush.

Suddenly, as if he had been by my side the entire time, Edward cradled me in his muscular arms, defying gravity's desire for me. Unlike before, his hold was firm, but not like a steel claw around my stomach. The grasp that held me close was that of a dancer, dipping his partner in a seductive move. My eyes met his, igniting a stronghold that could not be broken even if I had tried. His hand that held my head aligned with my neck began to wind itself in my hair, feeling the soft texture and the mass of strands that hung below me. His other arm rested on my back, the countours of our bones and muscles fitting like those of yin and yang. It felt wonderful in all aspects. It felt like it was supposed to be this way, as if we were made to feel each other's warmth.

Time did not freeze like it did in the movies. It was expedited, and left me begging for more time. It was right in so many ways, but it felt wrong to want. If I was destined to work with this man, it did not mean I was also destined to love him. As soon as it had happened, he pulled me upright, and steadied me by the shoulders.

"Are you alright?" Had his voice always been so silky? So enchanting? I could no force words to my lips, but could only nod. Angela rushed to my side, and asked the same question. This time, however, I could speak.

"Yeah, I think I just had a little too much caffeine this morning." Edward pulled a chair out for me in front of Angela's desk, and rested his hands on my shoulders to help me sit. He took the chair beside mine as Angela stood behind her desk. Trying to distract myself from the handsome sight to my right, I concentrated on what Angela had to say, intent on hearing every word so as to help block the words within my mind.

"Well then, now that Bella has been stabalized" she said with a teasing smile "let's get to buisiness. You both know what is expected of you, and the guidelines are relatively variant. Bella has spent a lot of hours clipping articles you might be interested in, Edward, in addition to what you asked about. Basic protocol is that Edward writes, Bella, you edit, and if you have any problems, you both talk it over, as well as the projects. Any questions?" We shook our heads, and the musical voice beside me rang throughout the room.

"Thank you again for this wonderful oppritunity, Ms. Weber."

"Please, call me Angela."

"Thank you, Angela." We stood, and Edward turned to face me with a gleam of what looked like amusement in his glistening eyes. "Bella, I look forward to working with you." His hand was outstretched to shake mine, and struggling for coherancy, I raised my trembling hand. Our skin made contact as his hand wrapped around mine, making me gasp inaudibly. With my mouth still partly ajar, it took all of the focus I had left to grumble a response.

"Mhmm." Was all the sound I could expell. I was not fortunate enough to have been able to say 'me too', or 'myself as well'. I made a fool out of myself in front of Edward, my new buisiness partner. My hand fell from his, and the man who put Abercrombie models to shame disappeared behind the door. Still in a hypnotic state, I could not even remember leaving the room, finding myself suddenly outside the maple colored door that now had my name on a silver-colored plaque nailed to it. Expecting the door to be shut, I withdrew my key from the outside pocket of the briefcase that hung from my limp arm, and moved my hand toward the knob. Strangely, I heard giggles within the room. As I tried to unlock the door, touching the key to the knob, my anxiety increased when the door swung slowly open without having unlocked it. Peering inside, my eyes widened with the crowd that was huddled within my office.

"Such bad luck that now of all days he decides to wear an actual t-shirt." Mrs. Cope said as she swivveled around in my chair.

"Still...mm-mm-mm-mm-mm. I know what I'm asking Santa for Christmas." Nausea swept over me as Jessica stared lustfully at the window washer, Jacob, that struggled with what looked to be silly string dried onto the window.

"I changed my mind...cloning _should_ be legalized for people like _that_!" Another secretary named Lauren murmered.

"We could make our own army of hott men!" Someone else added.

"Yeah, we could clone him, the actors on those doctor shows, and the blond guy I saw on the street today." A woman named Victoria suggested as she leaned hazardously over my computer monitor. Though I did not count, there must have been at least ten women crowded around my desk, staring at the man who vigorously scrubbed at the green string.

"'What is the big deal? He's just a guy!" I said, exasperated. "Everyone out!" I commanded, and all but one filed out of the tiny room, cursing under their breath.

"I have your mail for you." Jessica said, not having broken her gaze from Jake.

"Um, thanks. Since when...?"

"Since I can get one last look. Why do you have to be such a buzzkill?"

"Because I have to work here!" I said. "What is that crap on the window, anyways?" I asked only because I did not know how far you could spray silly string.

"Super string." There was a difference? "Apparently it is really hard to clean off of glass."

"Apparently." I said, temporarily mesmorized by the rippling muscles beneath the white shirt Jacob was wearing. "Please, Jess, I have a lot of work to do."

"Fine." She agreed as she sulked out of my office. Not able to concentrate with the russet-skinned man scrubbing the window mere feet from my face, I sat in my chair that was disgustingly warm from Mrs. Cope, and closed my eyes. My finger clicked the wheel of my iPod, and allowed the music to flow through the room as my other hand covered my face. Minutes passed, and all I could think about was Edward Cullen.

How could it be that Edward was the new author? I believed it with all my heart; it was true. How could I work with this man to whom I told all of my deepest secrets? Maybe not all of my secrets, but enough of those that were important enough to make a difference, and unease. Could I work with the man who had kissed me so much like they did in movies and fairtytales? How could I work with a man that I could not even talk to? If it was impossible for me to think in his presence, how was I supposed to do my job? Jacob was nothing in comparison of looks to him; his face more childish and his perfection typical.

Internal conflict raged through my throbbing head. A large part of me wanted to run away, and did not want to face the situation. Another part of me was embarressed, humiliated, mortified even, at the things that I told him. I told him that I liked _vampires_ for god's sake! Not really liked, per say, but the risk of blackmail and rumors were high if not inevitable. No, Edward would never do something like that. I hardly knew him, but I knew him well enough to know that he was too much of a gentlemen to hurt my reputation, not that I really had one to begin with. At least he would not _give _me a reputation. However, a still larger part of me yearned to see him, to know him, to kiss him again. I knew his last name, and would see him five days a week, every week, for months, and years to come.

Would I allow myself to be content with Edward being only eye-candy as Jacob was? He was forbidden, and that made him all the more alluring. I guessed this was why office relationships never worked, worse than that, rarely were they not cataclismic. I wanted to see him again more than anything, but was it so difficult to run into him at a coffee shop, or some bar that Rose dragged me to, or on the street? Life was cruel enough to make him like candy to a child. You can look at it, but you cannot have it. It was like pouring water on the ground before a man who had been in the desert for days who had only salt to eat.

A knock woke me from my frustrations, and without thinking, yelled "It's open."

"Hello Bell-uhh, is this a bad time?" Edward walked in the door at that moment, his facial expression changing from contentness to embarressment, and unease. He shifted uncomfortably in his black suit, his fingers gently tugging at the collar of his white button down shirt. His shocking eyes flickered downward, and his jawline turned away from me.

"No, why do you say that?" I asked. Did I look in dissaray? Did I smell bad? He saw my confused face, and pointed feebly toward the window behind me. I turned around, and was instantly suprised, and humiliated. Jacob had taken off his shirt, and wiped the sweat off of his chest with it. Glistening before myself and Edward, he continued to work at the super string, making his muscles bulge even more underneath his skin.

"Oh! Uh, he wasn't like that before...maybe we should talk in the hall...and maybe I should get verticle blinds."

"That's...probably a good idea." He said before edging out the door. His innocence made my heart melt; it was as if he was from another time, a time of chivalry and courtesy. I would have given anything to live in a time when all men were like Edward, but I doubted that anyone else could be quite like him. He was this impeccable mix of old and new, of vintage and edginess. There was not one trait that he possesed that was duplicated, down to the color of his eyes and hair. I followed him out of my office, shut the door and locked it behind me. He raised an eyebrow at this action in questioning.

"Long story." Was all that I said, and he accepted it. Though I wanted to prevent any of the office women from crowding inside of my office, there was a larger crowd staring at Edward and I with their mouths agape, and as we walked down the hall to the small kitchen in the far left corner of the floor, I felt like those animals in the zoos who were constantly looked at. I hated being the center of attention, but how could I expect to blend in when this god-like man was walking with me? The New York Times building was not only attracting writers, but extremely gorgeous men. We stood around the water cooler, slinking away from the eyes that followed us.

"So" I began. "what did you want to talk to me about?" I was desperate to know, but at the same time, I feared what he might say. He shifted his weight a few times, and scratched the back of his head, both signs of worry or anxiety. How could I expect myself to remain calm while this seemingly perfect person was practically shaking in nervousness?

"Um, I just...wanted to talk to you about, you know."

"There's nothing to talk about." He paused, and tilted his head in confusion. HIs soft green eyes were focused and burning with concentrated. Smoldering with an intensity I had never seen outside of the movies, I struggled to maintain my point.

"What do you mean?" Edward asked, seeming slightly dissapointed. Of course he would be dissapointed. Any man with his status would be upset if a girl did not kiss his feet so he would say hi to her. It was ego, pure ego, and he was not as different as I thought he was. Now I was dissapointed.

"What do you mean, what do you mean?" I asked, feeling a bit redundant.

"I just thought that you would want to...you really don't understand?"

"No. I really don't. Maybe if you actually told me what was on your mind, then I could." I folded my arms across my chest, suddenly irritated with his demeanor. I felt like an idiot for thinking Edward was so different when in truth he was just a good actor. He was an egotistical man, and I shouldn't have thought anything different to begin with.

"You're not wondering about how we can make the situation less akward? I thought that if we talked about what happened, we could ease the tension a little, or at least know where we stand." Edward leaned against the cabinets, putting his hands in his pockets like a model on a magazine cover would. A total cliche.

"Situation?" I asked with my eyebrows raised. Frustration creased his forehead as he began to pace around the tiny kitchen.

"Why are you being so difficult?" He asked in a smooth, velvety voice.

"Why are you being so cryptic?"

"Do you ever _answer_ questions?"

"Do _you_?" Edward was quiet for a moment, rolled his eyes, and perservered.

"Fine. Maybe situation is the wrong word, but we can't just forget that night of the blackout. Or at least, I can't."

"And why not? It doesn't mean anything. We work together, and that's it."

"That is really all it was for you? Nothing? Is it that easy to leave behind? Am _I_ not worth remembering?" Edward's eyes were distant, and hurt. He resumed his position leaning against the counter, but this time his arm was across his chest while his other hand was on his chin. I did not know how to respond. He couldn't be telling the truth, but then again I did not think he was lying.

"Maybe I overreacted."

"You still didn't answer my question." I could have sworn it was rhetorical, and wished it was.

"I didn't forget about you. Of course I didn't, but just because we kissed does not mean we should risk our careers."

"You think it would work out like that? It might have just been me, but I don't think it would end badly. We're different." That was what seent me over the edge. I refused to be catagorized with someone who hardly knew me.

"I used to think that, but you're wrong. You are just the same as every other con artist or playboy; _I_ am different." With that I left, hastily, yet carefully, walked back to my office. I nearly slammed the door behind me, locking myself in my haven. Jacob had succeeded in scrubbing off the super string, much to the dismay of the women across the street who had moved from one window to another as he made his way across the exterior wall of the building. Thankful for the solitude, I leaned back in my chair and selected my favorite iTunes playlist.

I couldn't shake the feeling of guilt, remembering the saddened look in Edward's eyes. Trying to convince myself that I was right, I repeated in my mind that he was the one to blame, and that he expected me to crawl to him while kissing the floor beneath his feet for existing. Who was he to think that simply because we saw each other again that meant that I was supposed to automatically date him? Who was he to assume that? He was right of course, there was nothing I wanted more than to kiss him again, but the fact that he assumed it really pissed me off. He tried to make his intentions innocent, but I was not willing to risk heartbreak over someone I was not sure about. Though I had not suffered from a broken heart myself, I knew all too well from Rosalie that it was the person you never expected to hurt you that swept you off your feet, and then dropped you on the ground. She had been betrayed enough for the three of us, and I would not be ignorant enough to let what happened to her happen to me.

There was reason for doubt, and that was enough not to risk it. I would never regret that kiss; it could have been the greatest night of my life but that did not change anything. Edward Cullen was the new author, my new buisiness partner, and coorperate relationships were right behind dating your best friend's ex. It was not done because it was not supposed to be done, and the results were distasterous. Maybe it would have been good for a few days, a few dinner dates or drinks, but it would end, and would end badly at that. Those insignificant dates would not be worth a resentful ending to something that could have been wonderful. It was an 'if only' scenario, a fantasy at most. I appreciated that night, how uninhabited I was, how free I felt, but I would not risk the career I had built up for my imagination's rants.

The rest of the day was spent in hiding. I tried to call it something else, but not even a thesaurus could find another word for it. I was being cowardly, but it would be worse if I ran into Edward again. Better and worse. Better because my eyes craved the sight, and worse because I knew I would apologize for something that did not need forgiving, and would no doubt make a fool out of myself. I would rather have Edward think of me as harsh than an idiot. At least he would be able to respect me. Maybe. Hopefully. Suddenly, my computer gave me a jolt as the sound of an IM rang through the space.

Muting the volume on my iPod, I looked at the IM catcher. The screename was enough to make me gasp. I clicked on the button to open the message, and sat up in my chair.

edward_cullen: Your screename was listed beneath your phone number. I thought it would be easier to talk this way, er, type.

I twisted my hair into a knot, and thought of what to write back. Inspiration hit, and my fingers flew to the keyboard.

bellaTimes: It's a little easier.

edward_cullen: Interesting screename. BellaTimes, because you work at The New York Times, and because it means beautiful in Italian, well, you know you made it up. It's a lot more original than mine

bellaTimes: Yours is more professional. Look, I am sorry about earlier. I meant what I said, but I shouldn't have been so mean about it.

edward_cullen: Don't be. I see your point. You're wrong, but I get it. Anyway, I wanted to say that it is not my say if we should be colleagues, friends, or something more, and I should have respected that. I shouldn't have pushed you, it was not my place. I understand that it would make things more...tense if we spoke in person. I thought it would make it easier if we communicated through text. More anonymous. Is that alright with you?

bellaTimes: Well, I haven't insulted your integrity yet, so it must be working.

edward_cullen: I see you have your sense of humor back. You make me laugh.

bellaTimes: It's hard not to laugh at someone who falls over chairs.

edward_cullen: You sell yourself short a lot, don't you? You don't see what I see.

bellaTimes: And what is that? What do you see?

edward_cullen: It would make you uncomfortable.

bellaTimes: Please?

edward_cullen: No.

bellaTimes: Why?

edward_cullen: Because you would never want to be face to face with me again, and that upsets me.

bellaTimes: Fine. By the way, you should have put a semi-colon before 'it was not my place'.

edward_cullen: There you go making me laugh again. The rumors are true; you are a good editor. Which brings me back to my point. I wanted to ask you your opinion on something.

bellaTimes: I'm listening. So to speak.

edward_cullen: For the first column, I wanted to do something special. You cut out a lot of events, and I found a few that were interesting. One of them was about modern art, and another was about finding inspiration in scenery and people. Which do you think I should write about?

bellaTimes: Hmm. Give me a minute.

bellaTimes: The second one. Inspiration comes before the art, or music, or literature, so why not start with that? Maybe begin with how it is formed, and how one thing, one color or sound can mean so many things to many different people. It would be a better lead-in than most columns that begin with an abrupt start, this way people can get a feel for how the rest of them will be written.

edward_cullen: Wow. I like it. I like it a lot. Why aren't you a writer?

bellaTimes: I think up ideas, but not the words. I can't think of words, but I can fix them.

edward_cullen: You're right, you are different. I've only been in New York for a few days, but already I have seen the same woman again and again. It is like a gigantic high school full of clicks, and each girl I saw fit into exactly one stereotype. You have the model, the insane artist, the buisness woman, the desperate serial dater, the stalker, and more. A lot more. Same thing in Chicago, it was nauseating. But you...you are smart, but not pretentious, you are beautiful, but not overly made up, you are unlike anyone I have ever met, and I am kicking myself for saying the exact opposite of what I mean. I meant what I said about the kiss, but I should never have put you in a compromising position. I know I agreed to keep this professional, but I can't let you think of me that way. I never wanted to take advantage of you, or claim to have you all figured out. I think of you very highly, and hope that you do of me as well. I look forward to working with you. Goodbye for now.

I had never felt more like a jerk than I did just then. Edward signed off before I could reply. It was as if I had been romanced all over again, his words sounding like poetry in an IM. There was no hiding it now; I had feelings for Edward. The question was what kind of feelings, and I hoped that it was not the roots of love.


	10. Nothing More Binding Than Never

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Elevators, Blackouts, and Strangers**

**Chapter 10- Nothing More Binding Than Never**

**Edward**

I closed the tiny red 'x' in the corner of the IM box before I could allow Bella to respond. It had taken all the courage my fingers had to type the words I needed to say, and even more to implement the words that I meant. Hoping that I had not given too much away, I shut my office door and tried to ignore the window washer that had moved from Bella's window to mine. Feeling as if my entire north wall was the cover of a Playgirl calendar, I decided it was time that I became acquainted with my new office.

A long couch of soft, black leather was pushed against the wall, and it begged to be laid on. The room was large enough to pace in, a quality that would be extremely useful to me. Pacing was an un-tamable habit of mine that became present in times of stress, worry, or any kind of excitement. I made a mental note to pay for the carpet after I paced holes in the floor with Bella being only a thin wall down from mine. Her space was considerably smaller than mine, and the prospect of our working together also promised that she would be present in the room I now occupied. The thought of her sitting on the couch that threatened to relax me into sleep made my skin tingle.

My fingers massaged my head and face as I tried to rub the image from my mind that had brightened my dreams and haunted my nightmares. Candlelight flickered through my thoughts, the light bouncing off of her face casting shadows beneath her eyebrows and cheekbones, while the golden light illuminated her eyes in a way that reflected the natural sparkle in her chocolate brown eyes. Her face drew nearer as mine did, and slowly, our lips met...

Smacking myself in the forehead, I curled my body into somewhat of a ball and turned over onto my side. The hand that was not covering my eyes was curled into a fist, and began smacking the couch with it.

"God I'm an idiot. I am an insensitive, seemingly anti-feminist idiot who is now talking to himself." I groaned into the cushion. I had never regretted anything as much as I did treating Bella the way she told me I did. Although it was the last of my intentions, she made me aware of my mistake. Had I really been that over bearing? That nineteen-fifties stereotype? Had I been that egotistical enough to talk to Bella the way I did instead of begging her on my hands and knees, giving myself to her as an eternal slave if only she would flash her brilliant smile to me one more time? She deserved a man far better than myself, and though no name came to mind, I knew he had to be out there.

Somewhere in the world there was a man that was handsome enough to make me feel more like a moron than I did already, who was brilliant enough to make me a complete idiot in comparison, who could make her laugh far more easily than I could, who would do anything for her, give his life for her, sacrifice his own dreams to make her happy even if only for a moment, and a man who Bella wanted with all her heart. On this earth this man wandered, ready to love her, cherish her, and be loved by her. And because I was not sure of her thoughts about me, I knew I would be lessened by hoping with all my might that that man would one day be me.

What had I done? In a matter of minutes I managed to make Bella repulsed by me, and rightfully so. The regret tore at me, making my skin crawl and my brain tire. I had never felt so embarrassed. No other event in my lifetime made me want to curl up underneath my bed and die, but no event ever inspired me to to make things right. Maybe the day would come when she would be able to look me in the eyes again, and when, or if rather, the day would come, I would apologize to her, and really apologize, not in an IM, but in person. I _would_ make things right, if only she would let me. I could not blame her if I tried; I was a jerk. For the first and last time in my life, I was a complete dick.

I couldn't stop thinking about her, and I didn't want to except for the trivial task of writing my new column. Reluctantly, I got up from the couch and slid into the leather swivel chair in front of my computer. Resting my fingers on the keyboard, I will my hands to write something. Nothing came. No words came to mind. Resting my chin on my hand, I did the only thing I could to restore my inspiration. Opening the IM box once more, I reread what Bella had written.

_Inspiration comes before the art, or music, or literature, so why not start with that? Maybe begin with how it is formed, and how one thing, one color or sound can mean so many things to many different people. It would be a better lead-in than most columns that begin with an abrupt start, this way people can get a feel for how the rest of them will be written. _

And with that, the things that I wanted to say were alive in words.

Hours passed, my fingers flew and my mind became alive. My vitality was restored, and hours felt like only minutes as I researched and typed draft after draft of what the column should say. However, every time I wrote a seemingly perfect article, I would reread it and find it to be total crap. Nothing that I wrote was what I wanted to say.

Overwhelmed with frustration, I picked up the gray phone beside my computer and dialed.

"Hello?"

"Hey Jazz, it's Edward."

"Hey. So, how's the job working out?"

"Oh god, Jasper, it's awful. Remember the girl I told you about?"

"Yeah, uh, Bella, right?"

"That's the one. She's my editor!" I whispered with my hand cupped over my mouth, not knowing how thin the office walls were.

"Wow. That's great!"

"Why? How in the hell is that great?"

"Uh, considering that you were smiling like a fool when you got home and haven't stopped talking about her I was under the impression that you _wanted_ to see her again." He said sarcastically.

"Well, yeah _I _want to see her again, but I am not sure that _she_ wants to see me again. I made myself seem like an arrogant jackass. Anyway, I just called because I know I am going to need a drink tonight."

"I think that can be arranged. I think Emmett might have a problem with that though.." I laughed into the phone, knowing Emmett was like a kid in a candy store whenever we went to a bar or club. I couldn't actually remember the last time it was actually my or Jasper's idea to go out, being that Emmett usually got to us first, and sometimes had to drag us out the door.

"Ha. Right, and maybe Tanya will stop calling you."

"Very funny, I have a stalker. There's this place called New Moon that's supposed to be pretty cool. One of those trendy restaurant by day and bar by night places."

"Sure. As long as they have alcohol, I don't really care where we go."

"That bad, huh? Alright, I'll see you later Edward."

"Bye Jazz."

I hung up the phone, and took my lunch break. Standing in the cafeteria line, I inched my way closer to the register. People crowded around the large room, leaving hardly any room to freely breathe. Bodies swarmed the lengthy lines for food, adding color to the otherwise blindingly-white room. The glossy paint and laminate floors added a cooperate sheen that allowed no room for any sort of warmth. If it were not for the smiles on the chattering workers' faces, it could easily become an easy source of depression. On top of a metallic tray, I cautiously balanced a can of Coke, a slice of pepperoni pizza, and a glistening red apple that threatened to roll off and land on the same floor that had been walked on by someone who had stepped in gum earlier that day.

Suddenly, my cell phone began to buzz violently in my pocket. Struggling, I balanced the tray on one hand and pulled the phone out with the other as the person standing next to me leaned away from my tray of food that swayed dangerously close to them.

"Hello?"

"So, our little prude finally decides to get a life!" Emmett roared into the phone loud enough for the people beside me who were inching away from my unsteady tray to hear his every word.

"I'm hanging up."

"Aw come on, lighten up Eddie."

"Emmett, if you want me to listen to what you have to say, calling me Eddie is not going to help you any."

"Sheesh. Well, now you know there is no getting out of this, right?"

"Right." I said, starting to regret my decision and wondering if I should have gone to the Seven Eleven for stress relief.

"and you also know that I respect the right to make this evening fun, right?"

"To an extent.":

"No, I will not take that for an answer."

"What are you going to do? Physically force me to.."

"Shut the fuck up, bitch!"

"I'm sorry?" I yelled a little too loudly into my phone as staring eyes bore into my head.

"Not you, Psycho Bitch is blasting chick music next door!" I heard Emmett's mammoth fist pound into the wall several times, and a muffled, indistinguishable woman's voice yelling back at him through the wall.

"Calm down Emmett, before that vein pops out of your forehead again. You can't afford Valium."

"Damn it! She's going to drive me nuts!"

"Get a shrink, Em. No offense or anything, but did you call me just to threaten me?" My hand dipped into my back pocket and fished out my wallet. Pinching the phone between my head and shoulder, my free fingers poked around my wallet and pulled out a twenty dollar bill. A wrinkly, angry-looking woman behind the cash register gave me a look, and reluctantly made change.

"Uhhh...crap, I forgot. Talk to you later Eddie."

"Not my name. Bye."

"Fine. Bye."

I slid the phone in my pocket and hurriedly searched for a table. Not finding an open seat, I decided to take my food back to my office.

Once again, I rode the infamous glass elevator. The conversation repeated itself in my mind like a movie reel, making me laugh when I recalled the strange things we talked about.

_"What if I were a vampire?" _

_"Truthfully?"_

_"I can bear it."_

_"I would like them a lot more." _

Again, I was smiling like an idiot. I slid out of the elevator between a crowd of hungry business workers. I walked quickly through the floor trying to avert my eyes from Bella's office door. It didn't matter how much I wanted to see her again, she didn't want to see me, and that was what mattered. I would avoid her, for her. Her confidence was far more fragile than mine, and therefore I would do anything to protect it. It really saddened me that night to hear her speak of herself so lowly, to hear how little credit she gave herself.

Bella was so much more than she thought herself to be, and she had no idea. Part of me thought of this trait as endearing, and another part of me thought that it wasn't fair for her not to see what I saw in her. As I was approaching my office door, I saw another start to open. Before the rest of the sweeping, mahogany hair made its way out the door, I quickly opened mine and rushed inside it. Shutting the maple wood behind me, I leaned against it and closed my eyes. After a few minutes, I pulled myself together and sat down at my desk.

Having remembered that I charged my iPod, I plugged it into my black iMac and let the music pour through the speakers. Quickly becoming bored, I began to eat the slice of pizza that did not grow cold in the heat of August. With nothing to look at, I put my feet up on the desk and literally counted the ceiling tiles. At least I wasn't counting the specks in the tiles. Yet.

My boredom was soon ended by a familiar song resounding through the electronic speakers.

_Far away, this ship has taken me far away_

_far away from the memories of the people who care if I live or die_

_This starlight, I will be tasting the starlight_

_until the end of my life_

_I don't know if it's worth it anymore_

_hold you in my arms_

_I just wanted to hold _

_you in my arms_

_I just wanted to hold_

_My life, you electrify my life_

_let's conspire to re-ignite_

_all the souls that would die just to feel alive_

_I'll never let you go_

_as long as you promise not to fade away_

_never fade away_

"Damn irony..." I muttered while I chewed. Not caring for the crust, I tossed it into the metallic wastebasket that had been lined with a clear, plastic bag and bit into the red apple. The juice leaked around the corners of my mouth, reminding me of a familiar phrase.

_The forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest_

How true it was, but I doubted I would care for Bella any less if she would in fact, allow us to be together. In fact, I think I could like her even more...

Shaking that thought from my head, I wiped my mouth and looked at my door. For some strange reason, it was slightly ajar. Setting down the apple, I walked over to the door and shut it. I could have sworn that I closed it...ah well. That's what comes with being insane, I guessed. It had been a long time since sanity passed me by. I doubted it if I had ever been normal, whatever normal meant.

With suspicion on my brow, my eyes searched the small space for anything that looked different from how it had been when I last left it. Nothing had been taken, or moved, all but the door. That left three options: there was a ghost in my office, the door was one of those strange portals that never stayed closed, or the creepiest option was that someone was watching me. I hoped it was the door. Or the ghost. I wasn't going to be picky.

Another three hours of meaningless typing passed by, and I decided that this would be my final draft. I read it, reread it, and edited again until the 'final draft' resembled little of the first. It was another hour until I was determined to make the thirtieth draft the final draft to send to Bella.

I opened a new email, and pasted in the article. Of course, I could not hit the send button without adding something of my own for only her to read.

Bella,

I apologize for how long it has taken me to send this to you, but it is excruciatingly hard to write about inspiration when you have none. Please look over it when you have the time, and let me know what you think. Don't go easy on me, be harsh. If you hurt my feelings, it would only be because you sugar-coated what you thought about the article.

Have a good night, and sleep well.

-Edward

Hesitantly, I clicked the small, blue button. Knowing my work for the day was done, I cleaned up my desk and prepared to leave. After a quick call to Angela, and permission from her, I Google searched for a good brand of vertical blinds. After flipping through pages and pages of advertisements, I called Jasper. Again.

"Hello?"

"Jasper, it's Edward."

"Uh, hi. What's up?"

"I need to order blinds."

"For what? The apartment has them already."

"No, for my office. The window washer likes to put on a show for the offices."

"And you want to block that?"

"Yeah, I want to block _him_."

"Ah. Tinted windows?"

"Yup. Anyway, can you send me a good site?"

"Yeah, will do. Um, Edward?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"You just did."

"Fine. Why the hell are you acting like working with your dream girl is a bad thing?"

"It's not a bad thing in my opinion, but it is in hers."

"Does she know how you feel?"

"Not really."

"Well, tell her."

"It's not that simple."

"No, it is that simple. It's you that's complicated. You are always looking for excuses; this girl is too perfect, this girl is always late, etc. This time, you actually _like_ the girl, a lot, and you aren't fighting for her."

"What if she doesn't want me?"

"Like that's possible. Has there ever been a straight, single girl whose vision was intact who didn't throw themselves at you? Do you remember high school at all?"

"Bella's different. She doesn't care about looks. She's deep, man."

"Whatever you say dude. But the next time you guys talk about what happen, don't crawl into a corner. Tell her. Please. You have been a little mopey lately, and we're sick of it. Especially me." Jasper always had this sort of sixth sense as to what people were feeling. I probably tortured the poor guy.

"I promise. Really, I do."

"Good. I will email you the link when I get back home."

"Where are you now?"

"Nowhere in particular." Suspicion was again raised within me. Jazz never went anywhere without a purpose.

"I hear street noise. Where the hell are you?"

"Uh, near the uh, Columbus Circle Metro Station."

"Why? You're claustrophobic, you dumbass."

"Yeah, forgot all about that. No, I was just...just looking to see if the girl I saw that night took the subway after work. I thought I might see her." For a moment I was speechless. Did Jasper have someone whom he was as fond of as I was of Bella? Had I been so pre-occupied not to notice? I really felt like a terrible brother, and a terrible friend. Maybe she was right. Maybe I was arrogant of the worst kind, the kind who did not even realize it.

"Well, I hope you find her, Jasper."

"Thanks Edward. Good luck with Bella."

"You too."

"Bye."

"Bye."

I hung up the receiver, and headed back toward the elevators. It had to have been the most interesting first day that I had in a very long time, aside from the fact that it was the first new job that I had for years. Before I worked for the Chicago Times, my earnings were on behalf of the local Barnes and Nobles. Needless to say, being a cashier was a lot less exciting, surrounded by books or not. Leaning against the metal rail before the window, I looked at the disappearing office as the golden door began to close. When a mere half inch of space separated the two door, I could see a familiar face racing toward the elevator. Just before the portal sealed, I caught a final glimpse of the lovely, Bella Swan.

Her brown eyes were widened in surprise, but I could have sworn that I saw the corners of her mouth raised in the hint of a smile. Though I did not know if I had interpreted her facial expressions correctly, I allowed a smile to brim my face, and gave her a friendly wave. Before she could respond, the metallic doors shut, and the elevator slowly slid down the outermost wall of the building. It seemed that we had both been cut off from what we had to say today. I couldn't help but think that we were not supposed to say what we wanted, but neither could I think that it was not our own insecurities that were getting in the way.

At least I was content with the fact that Bella did not seem to despise me anymore. Had my apology worked? Had the simple gesture of a wave? I didn't really care. Now that she had forgiven me, all I had to do was make her comfortable in my presence, and after that maybe we could be friends. After that, and not before, I would think about the possibility of more.

Another smile stretched across my face as I strolled across the marble lobby, only this time it was sensible. This time, I was smiling in the satisfaction of comforting some that I had disturbed. Stepping out into the smoggy, spongy air, I had never felt so free, or so fresh. It was strange, but the dry, clear air of the Alaskan mountains that I had visited with my parents as a boy could not match the heavy, dish-cloth resembling atmosphere of New York. While I walked down the sidewalk toward my apartment, I truly felt like this city was my home, even more so than Chicago had ever been.

I loved everything about this place, the lights at night, how the sun set long before the sky darkened, how people yelled and horns blared, how tourists flooded the compacted streets, and how the people were so...so exotic, so strange and yet more familiar because they were more like myself. Different in a similar way, if that makes any sense at all. It was like a haven for outcasts, making the outcasts belong to this beautiful island. Finally, I was free from convention or hesitancy, because there would always be someone who was more extreme than me, someone who made me normal while maintaining my individuality. I had fallen in love with a city, and I knew I would never leave.

I didn't even bother hailing a taxi or hitching a ride on the Metro train; the sidewalk was good enough for me. I enjoyed the roughness of the street, and the walk cleared my head from the stresses of the evils of writer's block. It was so wonderful to be able to think clearly again, to sort out what was what and what needed to be done, while other things needed to be ignored. Hands in my pockets, my laptop case turned into a briefcase slung over my shoulder, the world seemed like it was right again, except not again, but for the first time.

Walking into my apartment, I found that Jasper was already getting ready for the evening. His hair was darkened with water, and dressed in sweatpants and a shirt, apparently not having decided what to wear yet.

"Hey Jazz."

"Hey Edward. When do you think we should call Emmett over?"

"At the last minute. He can squish Cheetos into his own couch." I grimaced at the thought of the orange powder that often adorned Emmett's large fingers making contact with the brilliant white of our couch. I was a man, but I was a man who hated stains. I know that guys were a messy stereotype, but boy or girl, markings of food that was eaten years ago still left on the surfaces are gross.

Jasper laughed and shook the water droplets out of his hair. "Ha. Last time I saw him he had orange fingerprints on his shirt."

"Animal. I swear to god that beast eats like a bear." I said while walking into the kitchen. Cracking open a fresh bottle of water, I leaned against the counter and shook off my suit jacket.

"Have you ever seen a bear eat?" He asked me.

"No. Why?"

"Bears actually eat pretty neatly; it's when they attack that they rip their prey to shreds. I saw it on the Discovery Channel."

"You have no life." I answered.

"I know."

"So." I continued as Jasper rifled through his closet for something to wear. "How's the job front?" A groan came from the bedroom across the living room.

"I think I may have to give up architecture."

"Why? You love it, and spent all that money on school...it can't be _that_ bad."

"Oh yeah?" He said as he pulled a white shirt over his head. "Do you see any vacant lots in New York?"

"No. What does that have to do anything?"

"Come on, Edward, you're not an idiot. You can't build in a place that's already filled up. You can't build anything in New York. Where there isn't room to build, there isn't room for designers like me."

"Oh, Jazz, that's terrible. What are you going to do?" Worry for my friend dripped off of my brow. Sure, I had enough money to pay the rent while keeping the lights on, the water running, and food in the fridge, but my concern had nothing to do with legal tender. My poor brother was out of a job that was more than just a career or a place you had to drag yourself to every morning; he lost his passion. Ever since he was little, he loved to look at buildings, the way the light reflected off the glass and how they casted shadows across the city, making dark lines bend across the land. His eyes always saw some hidden beauty in every corner of a structure. Whenever we would travel, he would ignore the monuments that marked the alteration of history long ago, and instead his camera would be filled with photos of the facades around us.

"I have no fucking clue." He said softly. It was strange to hear anyone curse with such a tender voice, but I was surprised that he cursed at all, especially at such an extremity. The three of us were gentlemen, and even Emmett restrained from having the mouth of a sailor. Except for football games. That was different. If I did not know how serious Jasper's situation was before, I would know it now. He only saved these words for the most severe of situations. As I thought about those summers looking at Jazz's seemingly pointless pictures, it occurred to me.

"What if you take pictures of buildings instead of designing them?" I suggested as he slid on a black, pinstripe jacket over his arms.

"Like when I was ten? No, it would just depress me that I didn't build them. Wait..." He paused in the hallway, his hand to his chin in thought. "Maybe I could take pictures of more than just architecture."

"Like landscapes?"

"Right, because there is so much beautiful countryside in Manhattan. Besides, the island skyline is overly done. No, I mean like something that the people here really need that requires talent.." He paused, and looked at me. "Help please?"

"Um, okay." My mind searched for photography options. "Passport pictures?"

"You really suck."

"Okay, okay. Let me think. Uh, how about head shots?"

"Boring."

"Movie posters?"

"The movie industry is in Hollywood, New York is--" Jasper looked at me again, but this time with an inspired smile on his face. "New York is a fashion capital! I'll be a fashion photographer!"

"From architect to fashion photographer-yeah, not random at all."

"No, I'm serious man. I like clothes, I like taking pictures, and I especially like models."

"Emmett is going to kill you."

"Why? It's not like I am designing the clothes."

"No, I mean you are going to get paid to look at models all day." We laughed, and Jasper blushed. The poor guy was so shy. I used to say to myself that the three of us were variations of one person: Emmett and Jasper made one normal person between both extremities, and I was in between. Jazz of course, was both the most sane, and strangest of us. Even when he would be freaking out about something to the point that one would think he would need a straight jacket, he could, and would, tell Emmett or me when we needed to get serious, or think things through before we did them. It was as if he thought about us so much that he calmed everyone else before he calmed himself. I owed him a lot, and would help him through this crisis.

I gave my blond brother a playful punch in the shoulder, and walked into my own room while Jasper changed into a pair of gray jeans. Withdrawing my favorite shirt, a black button-down, I hopped into a faded pair of blue jeans. My fingers ran through my bronze hair, causing careful disarray that was more normal for my hair than tidiness, and then flopped back on the couch where my brother sat talking on the phone.

Listening into his conversation, I tried to decode what the other party was saying.

"...really rough. If there is anything available, give me a shout, will you?" My ears strained to hear the buzzing voice on the other side. "Thanks Kovar. Marc, right. Trying to be called by your first name, are you? Alright, I owe you big time. Coffee is on me. See you Marc." He clicked the receiver back into the charging 'pod' as it was called, and filled me in.

"So?"

"That was my photography friend. He thinks he may have a few jobs. Apparently the interns they were thinking of hiring can't spell photography without an 'e'."

"Ouch."

"I know. Hey, if their idiocy gets me a job, then they can sniff Windex for all I care." I laughed, and turned on the TV to distract us from the inevitability of Emmett bursting into this very room hours later. We sighed, and watched the TV without listening to watch Joey or Chandler had to say. Though I could not say what Jasper was thinking about, I had an intuition that it was about a particular 'pixie' he met in the subway.

Hours passed, and sure enough, Emmett dragged us out the door by our shirt collars, wrinkling them in the process.

"Jesus, Em, do you have to be such a brute?" I asked as we slid into a yellow cab.

"I'm not a brute, you just have chicken joints." He answered back.

"Chickens don't have joints. Do they?" I asked.

"Do wings count?" Jazz asked.

"Do poultry have knees?" I questioned out loud, trying to guess the anatomy of a chicken.

"They have ankles." The blond answered.

"How can a chicken have ankles?"

"How else would they walk without ankles? They would walk straight-legged, like those communistic soldiers you see in news clips."

"Why the hell do you know how a chicken walks?" Emmett intervened.

"Well come on, think about it..."

"I would rather not." I answered.

"You asked." He said.

"And I regret it. A lot." Jasper folded his arms across his chest, and muttered something under his breath. Suddenly, Emmett started giggling uncontrollably. We looked at him with our eyebrows raised.

"Communistic chickens!" He sputtered out, then exploded into hysterics. The image that came into my mind were a bunch of birds walking around in straight lines and stars on their shoulders. I shook the picture from my head, and knew that I was in need of a stiff drink.

The cab driver looked at us in the rear view mirror, and shook his head muttering something like 'idiotic creeps' or something like that. Maybe the cab drivers here weren't the only freaks.

We pulled up to New Moon around ten, when the lights of day had long since faded, leaving only the speckled glow of lit windows, and the red, illuminated columns outside of the bar. Scarlet beams of light spanned across the ceiling, creating ever moving figures that were in the shape of moons in different phases.; crescent, full, half. Crimson, silken fabric stretched across the walls, creating a satiny, white sheen in the interior. Black, sound-absorbing wood made up the floor so as to muffle the obnoxious clacks of stilettos. Blood red couches and armchairs were spread throughout the floor, with extravagant, white pillows resting on the plush cushions.

On these fabricated surfaces people were sprawled across, with men leaning toward the women in thin, high heels with brightly-colored drinks in martini glasses resting comfortably in their hands smiling widely with the tipsiness the alcohol brought. Two male bartenders were brimming with the satisfaction of being called 'eye candy' by some women sitting at the bar, while they made their moves on the only female bartender behind the cherry-wood bar.

Long, flowing hair dripped down her back that was constantly stared at by the two men. By the way this girl was dressed and her general appearance, it was made clear to me that she usually liked attention, but when men got handsy was when she said enough was enough. I could also see, however, that she wasn't telling them off like she should have doing. Neither Emmett or Jasper caught sight of the scene I was witnessing, and I told them to find us a cluster of seats. They complied, and I strolled over to the row of black barstools where I overheard them speaking.

"...you are both new here, and obviously don't know that I am not, under any circumstance, going to go out with you, or in, whatever your intentions are. Please, just leave me alone."

"Not so fast, sweet thing." One man said as he held onto her arm with an arrogant smile. "What's a pretty little thing like you doing alone? It isn't right, keeping your beauty to yourself..." That was enough to send me fuming. Jerks like him were the very reason I lived to be the opposite; complete disgust. Thinking quickly, I hurried over to the swinging door that led to the outer part of the club where the woman was walking away from the man. Not wanting to scare her, I smiled brightly, and winked my eyes.

"Hey babe. Just wanted to say hi while you were at work. How was your day?" I asked as I pretended to kiss her on the cheek. Her blue eyes widened in surprise, and at first loathing, but when her mind registered what I was trying to do, she went along with my plan like an Oscar-winning actress.

"Good so far, sweetie. I got the cake ordered." Ah, so she liked to improvise. She was subtly smiling, and her face began to warm back into her natural confidence.

"The vanilla one?"

"No, the red velvet one."

"Either way, you taste better than any cake." Apparently, this girl was an actress, because when I went to kiss her on the cheek again, her lips nearly touched mine, giving the appearance of a tongue kiss when no contact was made. I liked this girl.

"I have to go back to work, but I will see you later, baby." She cooed. She walked behind the bar again, and I made sure to give the two men a good stare-down. When her back was turned, the bartenders put their palms up in surrender. I looked over at the bar to another guy around my age who had seen the entire scene play out, including the falsities. I looked at him pleadingly, and he silently agreed to keep his eye on her. When the blond girl had a moment away from any glances, she mouthed a sincere 'thank you' to me, and I winked with a smile. I waved, and she did the same as I walked back toward my brothers who were facing the other direction.

"What the hell is taking so long, Edward?" Emmett asked impatiently.

"It's almost impossible to get a good waitress around here." I answered. We got back to talking, and within minutes our drinks were ordered and being sipped. We were assigned a friendly waitress with thin, platinum hair and a soft smile who only got our drinks right the third time. Luckily, we weren't picky once we told Em about Jasper's job, career, and lifetime passion search.

"Fashion photog, not bad." The beast approved. "Dude, you..."

"I am not setting you up with any clients, and clients of clients, or any other models or regular women I come in contact with." Jazz answered quickly.

"You suck."

"I know." His lips curled around the thin black straw in his rum and Cola, and sucked the liquid upward. He had originally ordered some kind of vodka, but it seemed like Absolut sounded like rum. Whatever.

The evening was a lot less eventful and exciting than I had wanted it to be. Even the haze of alcohol was not enough to blur the image of Bella from my eyes, or her memory from my mind. Emmett ended up taking some subtly skanky girl back to his apartment, staggering into his cab with his large, trunk-like arm around her waist. Jasper's eyes were rolling from the amount of drinks he had consumed, and I was surprised he wasn't dancing on the couches yet. He remembered his name and everything; a first for him. I slung his arm around my shoulder, and took him home, the two of us reeking as we zig-zagged down our hallway toward the apartment we called home.

Having half-pushed Jazz on his bed, I took off his shoes, and put his head on the pillow which would certainly be pulsing with pain tomorrow morning. As I was about to leave his room and prepare myself for a hangover tomorrow, his scratchy, grumbling voice stopped me.

"Edward? Cenn-I esk you somethin?" He slurred his words as they came through his sleepy lips.

"Yeah." I said.

"Well, this girl I met on the subway, d'you think she could be a photog too?"

"You never know." I said from my own experience.

"Never's an awfully long time." He said. "I'll know 'ventually. When'll I know Edward?"

"I don't know. You'll know when you do"

"Drunk or not, that makes no sense."

"What I mean is, you never know what is going to happen. What I am saying is if you see her again, tell her how you feel, and do anything you can to tell her how wonderful she is. You never know what will happen, but you can know what you'll do if something does happen."

"Huh." He said drunkenly. "You never know."

"Right." I replied. As I snuggled into my own sheets, I couldn't help but think about what I had told Jazz. You never know. You never know what will happen in life. You never know that you will get stuck somewhere in a blackout, or that you will meet someone who you will never forget. You never know, but when you realize that never is far too long a time not to know something, you learn that never is both the opposite and the same as forever. Both are eternal, and yet, the possibility of never is so much more binding.


	11. Rants and Regrets

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Author's Note: **Firstly, everyone knows that I changed my pen name, hopefully. Also, please check my profile for a new poll, as well as news and story updates. Also, I have added a few new sections. I have a list of links for role play sites, fan sites, my official MySpace, my account, as well as my account, which is still under my original pen name, Juliett Dawson. Please come and check it out!

**The sequel to Beauty and the Geek, Reasons To Be Missed, is finally here! Let me know what you think! But if you have not read Beauty and the Geek, the entire first chapter of the sequel is a spoiler, so be cautious!**

**Elevators, Blackouts, and Strangers**

**Chapter 11- Rants and Regret**

**Bella**

"Oh god, Alice, you should have read it. I was so mean to the poor guy, and he apologized and everything...I'm such a jerk." I said as I sank deeper into the couch. With Rosalie on bartender duty this evening, Alice would have to be the only person I would torture with my rants and regrets tonight. However, being the selfless, and genuine person that she was she did not even seem disturbed by it in the slightest. Many lesser friends would have told me to get over it hours ago, but not Alice. She listened to every word I said, and consoled me with the utmost sincerity

"Don't be so hard on yourself Bells, he probably knows that you weren't angry with him, just misunderstanding of what he meant. He _did_ apologize, which means he cares about what you think of him. If he didn't think of you highly, then he would not care. If he did not care, then he would have been defensive rather than apologetic." Alice responded as she sat back down on the couch with blanket in hand. Setting our glasses of wine down on the end tables, we spread out the comforter, curled our legs underneath us, and returned the glasses back to our hands, and then to our lips.

It had been three hours since I left the office, and still my face burned red with embarrassment and guilt. All Edward had tried to do was to be friendly, and to win my respect. Instead of giving him a chance at friendship like a normal person would, I had to be mean. I had to beat him down, accuse him of being a stereotype that he was nothing less than the exact opposite of, and he still did not hate me. I did not deserve this kindness from him. He should have been defensive; but if he was defensive, in Alice's perspective, it would be because he didn't care—could that make any sense at all in this bizarre world of mine?

Looking to Alice with confusion creasing my forehead, I tried to grasp what my analysis meant. I knew that my theories were not as good as they seemed when even I, the person who created them, was confused and in little understanding of them.

"I don't get it." I said. Twisting her small frame toward me, the pixie sipped from the scarlet liquid and tuned her attention to me.

"Alright. Let me make this sound easier. Okay, if he didn't care what you think about him, do you think he would apologize?" She asked me.

"No." I answered meekly, like a child trying to get a sense of understanding on a subject far too advanced for its years.

" Exactly. Which means that even though you think you offended him, he still wants your respect, or more even." I shot her a look. She ignored me, and continued. "Can't you see Bella? He just wants to make you comfortable, and for you to like him. Chances are, he thinks you were completely rational. Which is strange in itself." Alice teased with a small smile, and I gave her a soft, playful punch to the shoulder.

"I'm weird, I know. Do you really think so, or are you just trying to make me feel better?" I asked seriously.

"If I didn't, I wouldn't have said anything. You know that I am brutally honest, especially when it is for your own good."

"Thanks Alice. I don't know what I would do without you and Rose."

"You don't have to thank me, I am happy to do it. You would do the same for me and Rosalie; it's our jobs to keep each other sane. Or at least close to it, anyway." She murmured into her glass. She had never quite gotten past the blond man she crashed into on the subway, and the thought of her never seeing him again, 'cheating' as he had been, was slowly driving her mad. She liked to be in control, hated surprises, and especially hated not knowing what may, or may not happen. Alice was the sort of person who loved to be in the know, and needed to know everything in order to function properly.

I hugged her tightly, and turned toward the TV. We had given up on renting movies, nothing seemed quite right. We flipped around the channels, finally settling on a re-run of Friends. With the plot already known to us, we gabbed about their hair styles, and how awesome their apartment was. In a way, we sort of compared ourselves to the characters in the sitcom. There was Phoebe, the strangest, least conventional one in the group who reminded me instantly of Alice. There was Rachel, the pretty, popular one who had fantastic hair, and a great sense of fashion. Then there was Monica; the obsessive compulsive one who could cook, and had perhaps the most relationship problems of the group. It was easy enough to detect who we thought her counterpart was. Me.

Of course, the only thing missing were the guys. That was always the case. Men were always missing from our lives, but when several were thrown at us, we had no way to handle them. I guess it was simply bad luck or timing that I was now surrounded by Edward, the window-washing Jacob, and Alice's experiences with the blond man and the man who she described as being twice as big as he should be, and then of course Rosalie's experiences with Dickwad and Friend of Dickwad.

So was our luck. Most of it contributed by me. With my lack of coordination, came a lack of anything coming easily in life.

Hours passed with the ending of several shows and movies, and the monotony of time passing ended with the opening of the front door, and our blond room mate stepping through the door.

"Hey Rose." We answered in unison. "How was work?" I asked.

"Pretty uneventful really. Except for this one guy..." Alice's ears perked up at the mention of the opposite sex, and she sat up quickly on her knees, as if her posture affected her hearing.

"A guy?" She said. "Who is he? What happened?" We slid over to make room for Rosalie on the couch, and poured her a glass of wine. Rose slipped underneath the comforter, laid on her back, and rested her legs on the armrest above her head. In this awkward position she gave her account of the man she had seen at New Moon earlier that evening.

"First off, I don't _like_ the guy or anything, not in that way. He was just really sweet, that's all." She began.

"Stop explaining what we don't know yet, just tell us what happened!" Alice pressed for information. This was the sort of thing she lived for; juicy gossip involving a straight, cute man that she could live vicariously through as her own memory. Not that she took it that seriously, she just loved the little excitement we had in our lives, and thought nothing wrong with it.

"Okay okay, calm down Tinkerbell. Anyways, these two creeps who I work with, or rather used to work with, they were fired as soon as the manager saw what happened, were making the moves on me, and wouldn't take no or fuck off for an answer. It just kept getting worse and worse; they were relentless. I was really getting sick of it, but I started getting a little worried. I was actually thinking of what I would do if they followed me home, and my shift wasn't over for another hour or so after that.

They started getting a little touchy-feely when this man came over, pretending to be my boyfriend, or fiancé. I can't remember exactly what he said, but he made his point. They left me alone after that; I think they were a little threatened by him."

"Was he hott?" Alice inquired, and I leaned in to listen. Her eyes were wide in anticipation, and a smile beamed across her tiny face. Rosalie mimicked her smile, and replied.

"Yeah, he was. Extremely hott, actually. He had really pale skin, and really dark hair, it almost looked black in the light, but it could have been anything. His eyes were some kind of green or blue, again it was hard to tell, there was red light shining all around him."

"Ooo," I cooed. "Rosalie has a crush!" I exclaimed.

"No I don't. He's too formal, too...old-fashioned. Not really my type. He was nice though." I was wrong. I usually was about these things; Alice was the mastermind of crushes and other things of that nature.

"Well, that is rare in itself." The pixie said. "A nice guy who helps someone else, and is gorgeous at the same time. How many of those do you know?" She said rhetorically.

Answering internally, I could only picture one face, and one pair of eyes that were the color of granny smith apples. I did know someone like that. How odd, these two men were so similar. Could they be...? No, Edward did not seem like the type of man to go to a trendy place like New Moon. Not that I knew, anyway. I had to keep reminding myself that I did not know him as well as I thought, and that it was crucial for me to remain unbiased.

"Not enough." Alice remarked. For a few moments, the three of us sat in silence, with our eyes glazed over in fantasies. Nearly at the same time, we drew our glasses to our lips and drank heartily. Feeling utterly pathetic, I sighed and sank even deeper into the couch. Suddenly, Rose smacked her hands on her lap and stood up with a sense of power about her.

"I am so sick and tired of moping on this couch. We live in New York City of all places, we should be out doing something, not gluing our asses to the furniture. Now come on, get up. Where should we go?"

Alice and I looked at each other blankly.

"You just got off of work at a bar, how can you want to go somewhere at this hour besides a club?" I asked.

"Seriously, Rosalie, where would we go? We look like crap—except you of course– and what else is there to do at ten at night?" Alice intervened.

"Such a buzz kill. I guess you're right though." We sat once more in silence. "There aren't any good movies out, right?" We nodded.

"We could blast our iPods and piss off Dickwad." I suggested.

"Nah. I want to sleep tonight." Rose said. "The idiot would spend the entire night keeping me up. It's like he never sleeps."

"Vampire." I said.

"We could paint our nails?" The blond suggested, an idea to which Alice and I both groaned. Again, silence hit the room as we thought of something to do.

"Oh oh oh! I know what we can do!" Alice began to jump excitedly in her seat, clapping her hands madly together. "We can play Twister!"

Rose and I looked at each other skeptically. Needless to say I was terrible at this game. A few years ago I actually managed to tear the mat apart while trying to put my right hand across the dots and my leg in the corner opposite.

"We don't have enough people to play properly." I said. "It's more fun with guys. Remember when we played it with Quil and Embry from the Reservation?" They nodded, and then burst into laughter at the memory. Our two Quileute friends being about seven feet in height were more than enough for an evening's entertainment as they twisted with lengthy awkwardness across the mat.

"You know they're getting married?" Alice said. At my surprised expression, she clarified her declaration. "Not to _each other_, Quil is getting married to this girl named Claire soon, and Embry to someone named Leah. They all went to school together in La Push, and met up at the five year reunion or something."

"Aw, that's cute! The boys get tied down." I said smiling. We had met them years ago when we were still in high school, being that the La Push reservation was so close to our home of Forks. They were the first friends we had outside of school, and were now the first to get married. I felt a little sick.

The evening slowly passed, and once again, I was back in bed. It seemed like the only thing I did that had any use at all was to sleep, and it also seemed like all that I did recently. Work had taken up my life, and Edward had taken up my mind. Between the two, the numbness of a restless sleep was something I actually looked _forward_ too, strange as it was. What was it about him that kept me up at night? Besides the obvious answer that he was pleasing on the eyes, he knew me, and was, I am sure, still finding out about the most hidden aspects of my life that I may even be unaware of. That was what made me kick in the night – how the cliché 'he knew me better than I knew myself' could easily be a reality for me.

I could not allow a cliché to become my life. I would not. Even for Edward. Alright, maybe for Edward. If he took the time and effort to get to know me, I might as well let him. Why couldn't I have realized that _before_ I insulted him? Life could really be cruel sometimes.

_BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP!!!_

Another day of work. Another day of fighting for the control of my office from man-hungry women. Another day of Edward who I had chosen to avoid. When had my simple life become so complicated? Sadly, I knew the answer. The night in the elevator. Those few hours changed everything.

Bored with my usual office wardrobe, I slid on a white, silky dress and stepped into my favorite white flats. At least I would have comfy feet in my humiliation. I walked over to the kitchen, momentarily forgetting about the death of Mr. Coffee. Oh well, I would buy one later. Glancing at the calendar, it marked August 12 as being the anniversary of the day Rosalie, Alice, and I had moved from Forks to New York all those years ago, and it being Thursday.

Feeling completely pathetic when I realized this was the only anniversary any of us would be celebrating, I stomped out of the apartment as Alice slid sleepily through her door.

"Morning Alice."

"Huh? Oh hey...Bella. Have fun." She said with grogginess dripping in her speech. Rubbing her eyes, she walked over to the refrigerator where her collections of vats of caffeine, otherwise known as Pepsi, awaited her. Though normally perky, she was a wreck in the morning. Just before I locked the door behind me, I poked my head in and whispered to her from across the apartment so as not to wake Rosalie.

"Psst, Alice."

"Huh?"

"Don't forget, you cousin is coming in today."

"Ah right, the cousin. Did I tell you that he is in beauty school?"

"Really?"

"Yeah, he's cutting my hair today. More like trimming it, but still. Good practice." She frowned at her flat, black hair that hung to her shoulder.

"Let me know how it turns out. I have to go, bye Alice."

"Bye." She said as she slumped onto the couch. Rosalie was right – we lived on that couch. We did need to get out more, much as I hated to admit it. Though I was not about to suggest us going to New Moon anytime soon, a movie would not be out of the question.

After Alice's predicament on the subway that night, as I had come to call that date by anything else but August 9th, I decided to walk to Starbucks, and proceed on foot to The Times.

At the maple-colored counter, I ordered my drink when I heard the sound of a familiar drink .

"I have a double espresso? Double espresso for Edward?"

"Shit!" I mumbled under my breath. Hiding behind the crowded lines, I childishly ducked before the pastry case, hoping not to be seen by my colleague. I really felt like an idiot, understandably so. Suddenly, the god-like man came into view. He was alone, and grasped his drink in one hand while raking the other through his hair. He tilted his head back, and let the steaming, black liquid pour through his throat. The bronze locks atop his head were blowing gently in the breeze of the air conditioning vent above him, and though his eyes were closed I could still feel the intensity radiating from his features.

My heart melted, my eyes in physical pain from having to turn away as I was called to the register. Still crouched below the counter, nearly on my hands and knees as I hid, I whispered my drink.

"Grande latte please?" The man wrote with black ink on the side of the cup, looked at me suspiciously, then punched buttons onto the register. He leaned down, and asked me why I was whispering.

"You see that guy over there? The really tall one with the pale skin?"

"How could I not?" Of course, he had to be attracted to Edward.

"Well, I work with him, and it's a long story but it's kind of better if he doesn't see me..."

"_You _know him? You are _hiding_ from _that_? Are you insane?"

"I think I am. How much do I owe you?"I slid him the bills, and without avoiding the strange looks coming from the crowds within the coffee shop, I faced the floor as I literally crawled across it.

The heavy glass door shut, and as the sound of the door colliding with the frame drew my attention to it, I momentarily lost sight of what was directly in front of me. My head came into contact with a man's leg, covered in black slacks that could easily have been Armani. His black shoes were glistening in the lights, obviously fresh from designer shelves.

"Oh, excuse me sir, I didn't see you..." My sentence was cut short. I lied, I had seen him. In fact, I had seen him sipping his coffee as would a model for a coffee bean commercial. My eyes flew upward, meeting the very bewildered, green eyes of Edward.

His lips were curved in a sort of crooked, amused smirk. His shock quickly faded into a humorous expression, all at my expense. The pooling blood in my cheeks felt as if it would burn a hole through my face, killing me by mortification.

"Well, hello there Bella." Edward said, trying to contain his laughter.

"I uh...dropped an earring." I lied. He reached his hand to help me up, and I quickly accepted it.

"You don't have pierced ears." Shit! He actually noticed? When? I usually wore my hair down! The only reason I had even said that was because of a movie I had seen, and it worked for her! Why does everything work out for people in movies? Except for Titanic, that was a reasonable argument.

"Eh – it's not my earring, it's my friend's." I was actually digging myself a grave. Edward tilted his head in confusion and disbelief.

"Really? Where is your friend?" Shit! Shit shit shit! Now I knew why pretty people were supposed to be stupid; you could lie to them and they wouldn't be able to put the pieces together.

"She's...not here."

"Oh? Why do you have her earring? And, where is this earring you speak of?" He had won, and he knew it. I could see the triumph in his face. I straightened out my dress, and tried to shake off the staring eyes. Of course, I couldn't be sure that it wasn't Edward that they were staring at. That was perfectly acceptable in my eyes.

"Fine. You win."

"And what is my prize?" He teased with a silky voice that nearly made my knees give way.

"Um, not having hot coffee poured on you?"

"I think this is my favorite prize that I have ever won before." Edward joked, and I could not help but laugh. It made the situation slightly better to see him smile, and for me to smile in return.

"Have you won very many?" I asked as he walked me to the door. Somehow, the hiding from him seemed extremely ridiculous, not simply because crawling on the floor was absolutely childish, but because it seemed like he would do anything to make me comfortable. It was then that I remembered something that had happened the night in the elevator, and what I had thought about it afterward.

An awkward song had just blared from my iPod, and our kiss had ended.

_"That's ironic." Edward joked. Strangely, the awkwardness faded with his words. He was genuinely amused, and thankfully, we could part and laugh in drunken tones. "And tell her thanks for me."_

_"For what?"_

_"For giving us material for some interesting conversations." Of course, he was a gentlemen. He looked at me, and then clicked the wheel of my iPod. I had been blushing all too obviously, and he wanted to make me comfortable_

God, I was a jerk. More than once I doubted his gentlemanly intentions, and I just kept doing it.

"Prizes? No, not many at all." He answered me, smiling. His teeth were alarmingly white despite what I assumed to be frequent coffee drinking.

"Oh? Why is that?"

"I never entered many contests. Of course, none of them entailed coffee induced third-degree burns for all of the participants who didn't win."

"I see. So what prizes have you won?" I asked with genuine interest as we began to stride toward The New York Times building. As I walked beside him, the sun began to peak above the skyscrapers, sending a heavenly orange glow across his pale face. It was almost more than I could bear as the glistening rays reflected in his eyes.

"I'd rather not say."

"Do you have something to hide, Edward?" I asked him coyly. I felt utterly ridiculous, but at the same time, so naturally mysterious. Must be the coffee. Or the Edward. Either one.

"Yes. Embarrassment."

"Worse than having a bag of groceries in a commercial skyscraper's elevator at nine at night?" I asked without thinking. Crap! Why why why did I do that? Wasn't it my goal to forget that night?

Edward looked at me slyly from the corner of his eye with a devilish grin brimming along his ivory teeth.

"Someone is talkative today." He declared as my cheeks scorched with the pool of blood that swelled within them.

"Caffeine rush." I lied.

"I see." He knew. I was a terrible liar, and he was smart. Too smart. We continued to walk past the streets of the city until he broke the silence. "I forgot my own address."

"Huh?" Awakened from my Edward-induced coma during which visions of him whirled around my conscience, I was unaware of what he meant.

"That night in the elevator, when I had the groceries. I had the address of my apartment on one post-it note and the address of the Times on another. I mixed them up, and took the elevator halfway up the building when I saw the logo on the button panel. Feeling like an idiot, and rightfully so, I might add, I clicked the lobby button hoping not to run into anyone. I did, of course, and there I was with a bag of wine, candles, and bendy-straws."

I could not contain my laughter. Giggling convulsively, tears began to stream out the corners of my eyes.

"You thought...you lived...at your office!" I spat out between fits of hysteria. He rolled his eyes, but still he smiled.

"Exactly." He said. "This is why I didn't tell you. Now you think I am a moron." I calmed myself for his sake, and for the sake of my ribcage.

"I don't think you're a moron. In fact, I think you are quite intelligent." His face became serious, and turned toward me.

"Really?"

"Of course I do. I guess it didn't help that I laughed." I shamefully admitted with my eyes evading his.

"I don't mind."

"You're just trying to make me feel better."

"No. I like making you laugh, even if it's at my expense." Smiling widely with my lips pressed together, I looked up into his eyes, and playfully elbowed him with my arm bent from resting the handle of my briefcase around my forearm. He copied my action, and we walked onward.

"Friends?" He offered.

"Friends." I confirmed.

Maybe it was possible for the two of us to be friends. If we could not be anything more, which was the case, then we could at least have a friendship out of this. Would that be good enough for me? It would have to suffice, and I was determined to make sure that it would be carried through that way.

I did not fully understand the phrase '_just_ friends'. Is it that being friends with someone you could otherwise have a relationship with lesser than dating? Shouldn't it be considered more because of the rarity that it was? Friends were far more valuable than dates, and comparing the two with 'just' did not seem quite fair.

"Your turn." Edward said as we approached the Times.

"For what?"

"I told you an embarrassing story, and now it's your turn."

"Why is that?"

"That's what friends do; they share humiliating stories. Come on, let's hear it."

"Are you sure you want to hear this?"

"Mhmm." He answered with his heavenly hum as we glided across the marble lobby with several pairs of eyes locked on our – mostly his – forms.

"Alright. Earlier when I was on the floor, I was hiding from you." Edward looked at me with shock spread across his gorgeous face, which soon transformed into laughter as mine had been. I could not help but laugh at my own pathetic action. The man at the register was right; why on earth was I hiding from him? So many people searched the world for people like him. Mostly casting directors, I assumed.

"Bella, can I tell you something?" Oh god, no, not when you propose asking it first – that only meant trouble.

"Yes."

"You are an awful hider."

"Shut up!" I teased as I hit his shoulder. If the only way to feel his skin was in physical abuse, so be it. It's not like I could actually hurt him...physically.

Though our playfulness returned, the awkwardness did not fade completely as we had hoped. In fact, it was worsened as we stepped into the same elevator we had been in so many days ago.

We stood alone, with only the view as an accompaniment. As we endured the silence, the tension built. Seeming as though he was the only one of us courageous enough to ease the atmosphere, he spoke.

"Wow. They got all the wax off the bottom. I felt kind of bad about that after."

"Actually, I know the head janitor." I said, stifling laughter.

"Oh. Well, that makes me feel a lot worse actually."

"Don't! I mean...don't. I know him, and I wish that it had been more difficult."

"Ah. Was that the guy who was bothering you the other day?" Edward asked.

"Yup."

"Well now, I should have brought Superglue." I giggled, and the unease the small, glass-enclosed space had once held was now completely evaporated, and turned into something entirely different. It thrilled me so much that this place that beheld such a beautiful moment in my life was now only the keeper of happy memories, happy memories with Edward.

We departed down the hall, and departed into our offices. Sinking into my plush chair, I sighed with contentedness with the current situation. We had become friends, and could finally be around each other while still be able to control my longing to touch him. For the most part.

Hours passed by, and I went about business as usual until three wonderful words were emitted from the computer speakers.

"You've got mail." I clicked the tiny yellow envelope, and my breath caught in my chest when I saw the email address.

edward_cullen: I finally finished the column. I attached it below. Do me a favor, and be harsh. Please. Thanks. Edward.

P.S. I am really glad we are friends.

I opened the attachment, and read what he had to say.

_Heat of the City_

_by Edward Cullen_

_Being a virgin to the city of New York, I am greeted by heat, confusion, and thoughts muddled by the strange organization of the streets and sidewalks. With this mass excitement and struggles for self identification amongst the crowds, it can be hard to recall what it was you set out to create. What must be remembered, however, is that inspiration is easily transported. All you need to do is tear the tape off of all those boxes, and rifle through them until you find the unlabeled cardboard cube in which it rests. _

_After reclaiming your prized possessions from the heaps of necessities that get in the way of your muse, these cherished objects of your affection could very well return the attention they have been given by carrying something else along within their own forms; home. The inspiration you felt at your precious dwelling can be preserved through these artifacts, whether it be as grand as a painting or as seemingly insignificant as a pen, anything that retains the value of the wrecking ball to the brick wall of writer's block. _

_While this metaphor is painfully cliché, the theory remains the same. Don't allow your dreams, and creations to get lost in the claustrophobia that is so easily felt in this city of visionaries both talented and impersonating. Though your masterpiece could easily be the most important aspect of your life, inspiration is the only way to achieve something magnificent rather than mediocre. Wherever you go, wherever you stay, keep hold on what you set out to do. _

_Whenever you feel yourself drifting away from who you are as an artist, remind yourself of this: What do I want to say? Through the many variances in the arts, one thing remains the same. Everyone perceives it differently, and how they do so is nearly entirely up to you, and your hands, ears, sight, and life as a whole. _

_Most importantly, do not get caught up in the trends that lead you away from originality and self identification. Keep hold of what is important to you, and tear yourself from the net of conformity. And when you have the chance, delve into the heart of this island, and free the buzzing roots of miraculous works that are begging to be released from the core of New York. You may never know what you find within the heat of the city. _


	12. Haircuts and Newcomers

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Author's Note: **I will be updating my stories, fear not! But I will be updating between this story, and Reasons to be Missed alternately, so it may take a little longer. Also, I saw the Twilight movie. My comments are too long to write here, but overall I loved it. There were mistakes, but no movie is perfect. That is what books are for. Also, keep checking my profile for story news and for a poll! Will Stephenie Meyer continue Midnight Sun? Tell me what you think!

**Elevators, Blackouts, and Strangers**

**Chapter 12- Haircuts and Newcomers**

**Alice**

Crawling back into bed after I said my goodbyes to Bella, I ran my hand through my frizzy hair that had split ends running up the ends threateningly. In my attempt to grow out the mid-shoulder length hair, I had gone months, years even, without a trim. My attempt failed. All that came from this was my hair slowly dividing itself with small, white broken ends marking where weeks of growth had died and been buried within my hairbrush.

Groaning as my hair disgusted me so severely, I realized that no sleep would come to me. My eyes fluttered awake, widening to their full extent in the process. Stumbling into the closet over a pair of shoes, I searched the racks that belonged to me, and then wandered to Bella's side.

"Ew." I stated to no one. "Ew." I repeated. "Ew...ew...ew...outdated...ew." I mumbled as I flipped through her clothes. This needed fixing. Not caring about the intrusion I was making, I slid open her drawers. The first contained work out clothes, and lounge clothes, as well as the few t-shirts I allowed her to keep. The next, underwear and socks, a space I had not yet penetrated.

"Oh this _definitely_ needs fixing. Word to the wise, Bella, Victoria's Secret isn't _that_ big a secret." I stopped myself when I realized that I was talking to myself. I was freaky enough, I didn't need any questions of the 'voices in my head'. Determined, I sped out of the closet, and pounded on Rosalie's door.

"Wake up, Rose. We're going shopping."

"Shut up you little pixie. I need my sleep! Besides, I just went shopping. The stores won't even have anything new worth checking out. Go away!" She yelled, her face still buried in her pillow as I stormed her room.

"No, not for you. We're going Bella shopping." She was silent, and then her head perked up between her sheets. Her hair fell over the front of her face, and as she flipped it behind her a grin stretched across her face.

"Well what are you doing here? Move! I need to shower!" Rose pushed me aside as she ran past me. Smiling to myself, I knew I always had a knack for getting the lazy ass out of bed. She was worse than a couch potato, she was a bed potato. Of course, Rosalie wasn't exactly the type to eat Cheeto's all day on a sofa either. Orange never was her color.

As she showered, I pondered what I should wear. Choosing a navy blue dress with a v-neck framed by braided material, and a necklace from which a small clock hung, I slid into a pair of black ballet flats that I considered to be my comfortable shoes. Normally, I was more prone to choose towering heels to make me taller than a fifth grader, but this was an emergency. We would spend all day at the mall if we had to, and we did have to. The last thing that I needed was for my feet to start hurting in the middle of an intervention.

Writing down the measurements of her jeans, shirts, and various other garments on a scrap piece of paper, I made a mental note to buy earplugs for when Bella's ferocity would become audible. At least I knew she would never hit me. I think .

Fumbling with my limp hair, I pulled it back into a bun and left it at that. Thank goodness my cousin was coming into town, maybe he could do something with the mass of hair that irritated the life out of me.

Rose came out of the bathroom after blow-drying her hair, her towel wrapped tightly around her while I scribbled more notes. Turning around to give her privacy, she dressed in a waist-high white skirt that puffed out slightly with the pleated, stiff fabric. Above this, she wore a shirt in her signature red color. Her hair was straightened, with a small curl dangling at the ends, and her eyes were illuminated with excitement.

"So, when's your cousin coming over? How long do we have to shop? What's the dude's name anyway?" Rosalie asked me.

"James is coming around four, and it shouldn't take him that long. I have to go to work around eight tonight to make a surprise check on the interns and to meet with some potential photographers. We pretty much have all day."

"That's kind of late for a meeting, isn't it?"

"Yeah, well they are jet-lagged. I am only talking to two guys anyway, they have their teams, but they do as they're told. One of their employees is brand-new, so I'm a little way, but still. You never know."

"Any way you can get me a job?" She asked.

"I should."

"Thanks Alice."

"Thank _you_. At least you don't spill coffee on the clothes before they go on the runway unlike some of the airheads." I had far too many horror stories about stains to continue.

Half an hour later, we were out the door, and hailed a cab to the mall.

We walked from store to store, piling our arms with shirts, blouses, jackets, sweaters, coats, pants, jeans, skirts, dresses, shoes, tank tops, and even undergarments. We had nothing to hide, and neither would she now.

With bags upon bags dangling from our arms and hands, hours had passed, and we stopped in the cafeteria for some Panda Express. Plates of noodles, rice, beef broccoli, orange chicken, and sweet and sour pork lay steaming before us inviting our forks to dig into them and nearly burnt our mouths in the process.

"Bella is going to kill us." I said, giggling at our evil plan.

"As long as we don't bleed on the clothes, I am fine with that." We were silent for a few moments, until I interrupted the stillness.

"What do you think is going to happen with Bella and her author?" She picked at her food, thinking about what to say.

"Edward? I have no idea. If she was smart, she'd make a move. He's supposed to be gorgeous."

"She has never gotten this silly over a man before, I think she likes him."

"We have liked people too, Alice that doesn't mean anything."

"For Bella it does. What was her last crush?" Rosalie paused for a moment, and could not come up with anything. "Exactly. Why this guy? Newton is obnoxious, but he is hott. Even if Edward is some kind of Greek god, it's hard for me to think that she can sit there and smile while she thinks about him and not think she is falling for him."

"Why should she? She doesn't even know him. He could be married, or a jerk who is a really good actor. People will lie about themselves to get what they want, especially to people like Bella. I love her, but she looks weak. He's a player, just trying to get to her."

She spoke from the heart. She had been hurt by someone she had almost married, by someone she trusted with her heart who broke it instead of treasuring it. If anyone could detect a lie, or a game of acts and betrayals, it was Rosalie. She was better than Googling a man, she was a human lie-detector.

"Maybe. We'll see if he has any talent at least when his article comes out."

"That could be Bella's doing."

"True."

"Do you think she _is_ falling for him, Alice?"

"If she isn't falling for a guy like that, she may never fall for anyone." We ate the rest of our food, and slowly made our way out of the mall and into the taxi.

Rosalie sighed, and rested her head against the head of her seat, her blond hair spilling out around the black leather interior.

"You okay?" I asked as her face fell.

"Nothing." I tilted my head to the side and gave her a look. She was a good liar, but I was better at detecting them. "Fine." She admitted after another sigh. "I miss dating. And I mean real dates, with nice guys, hott guys, you know. I miss going out to dinner, wearing black cocktail dresses, curling my hair, not having to pay, kissing a man for the first time when he drops me off at home...all of it."

I sat there, contemplating the silence, knowing that the emptiness was more than just a free meal. She missed being appreciated, truly appreciated, as I did. It had been far too long a time since last any of us, including Bella, had been on a date like this. It was something that was considered to be a simple part of life, but we longed for it. We weren't ready to be tied down quite yet, but for human contact, even in the simplest of touches, was something long overdue.

"I never knew you to be so conventional." I replied. Rosalie was by far the most unorthodox of us in the dating scene, as well as other aspects of life.

"I'm not really. Still, I used to take it for granted; I thought it was an overrated, cheesy, cliché, and now I wish that anyone would take me on a date somewhere besides a stupid baseball game or drinks. You don't get to know someone on drink date, someone is trying to get you drunk on a drink date. Do you ever feel like we've gone through every good man in this city?"

Sighing, I slid my arms from the confining loops of the bag handles, and folded them across my chest.

"All the time." I answered. _All except for one,_ I thought to myself. At that moment, the blond man I danced with on the train those days ago came into my mind. Shaking his image from my head, I repeated to myself that he was using me to cheat on his girlfriend, making me look like a fool. Of course, I didn't believe myself. I could not get over the nagging feeling that I wasn't in view of all angles of the story.

We arrived back at the house, and knew we needed to revive our spirits. Unfortunately, that would have to wait until later as James was already waiting for us in our apartment with my hidden key.

Tossing my keys on the table beside the door, we made our way into the apartment, bags clinging to our arms and hands.

"Hey Alice! Let me help you with those." James jogged over to where Rose and I stood, releasing us from the web of plastic and paper bag handles. His blond hair was tied back in a short ponytail, leaving his dark, black-brown eyes unobstructed. Light, distressed jeans rested lowly on his hips, his black shirt stretching below the waistband of his expertly worn, brown leather jacket. Being as he had few inhibitions, the v-neck shirt he wore exposed a triangular part of his muscular chest. He was obsessed with his appearance, and that entailed working out several times a week, frequent changes of hair style, and of course weekly additions to his wardrobe, if not daily.

"Ugh, thanks James. It's been a long day." I said as I wrapped my newly freed arms around my cousin. "It's nice to see you again! Oh, you remember Rose, don't you? I think you two met a few years ago." Rosalie was somewhat starstruck at his appearance, and eagerly returned his hug.

"Of course I remember Rosalie!" His fingers twirled around her hair, letting her golden locks slide through his hand as he observed the clean ends. "Wow, not one split end! I like you!"

"There's soda in the fridge, help yourself." I said, knowing where this was going. Rose quickly skipped toward me as my cousin bee-lined toward the fridge. With a smirk on her face, she leaned down to my ear, and whispered softly.

"He's certainly gotten cute!"

"His boyfriend thinks so too."

"Ah. Why are the hott ones always gay?"

"Rotten luck." I surmised. Only I could think of one who did not fit that description....

"What?" Rose asked me as I shook my head.

"Nothing. Nothing, I was just thinking about something stupid..." Rosalie accepted my poor excuse, and sat herself on the couch with her favorite magazine. She swung her long legs beneath her, and flipped her hair backwards, away from her face. Sighing, I sat in a chair in the kitchen, an identical twin of the same that James sat atop.

"What's the matter, Ali?" My cousin asked as he rested his chin on his hand. "Is it the love life?"

"No." I answered. "It's the lack of which."

"Aww, I'm sorry sweetie. We need to get you a man." He said as he began fishing through his bag of hair styling tools.

"Don't I know. Where'd you get yours?"

"France." He answered. "I was on vacation there a couple months ago, and Laurent just swept me off my feet. I tell you, never date a New Yorker. Foreigners are the way to go." I leaned back in my chair as James swept a satiny black sheet over me, and buttoned it around my neck.

"Well, I have no money to travel with, and decent Europeans are hard to come by here. At least ones that speak English or can understand my few sentences in German..." I said, recollecting previous mishaps of culture clash.

"Well, I guess out-of-staters are acceptable then. California boys are pretty awesome."

I chuckled. "You just say that because you were born there."

"So? Anyway, to business. What should I do with this mop of hair, girl?" Groaning, I twiddled a piece of hair in my fingers.

"Just a trim." He put his weight on one foot, and crossed his arms with a stubborn look on his face that vaguely reminded me of Bella. "Please? I want to grow it out. It doesn't get past my collarbone."

"Alright. Not much of a change, but alright. And don't sue me if I screw it up."

"I really don't want to hear that, James."

"I am still in school, I can't make any promises..."

"James pleeeeease! I trust you, and I know you will do a good job. Pretty please?" I begged with puppy-dog eyes.

"Alright. I can't say no to you, you know that."

"You're so good to me!"

"I know. Let me spritz your hair wet, and we'll go from there."

Sitting in the chair, I felt my hair begin to soak up the water from the spray bottle, and drip slowly down the waterproof sheet. I heard Rosalie softly humming along to a song blasting from her iPod in the next room, and sat as still as possible while James concentrated on his work, my hair.

I saw small, short clusters of dark hair fall around my shoulders, and I squeezed my eyes shut at the loss of length. A few minutes later, James still working on the same lock of hair he had started on in the back of my head, Rosalie walked into the kitchen. Apparently, James had dropped a towel on the tile floor, and Rose hadn't noticed.

She went skidding across the floor as her foot met the stray towel, and she held onto James' shoulder for support. He quickly jerked to the side, his fingers clamping down on the blades of scissors in the process. I rapidly turned around to see that Rosalie had stabilized herself by gripping the counter with all her might, that my cousin had recovered from the grab, and several inches of my hair lying on the floor behind me.

"JAMES! Tell me you can fix it!" I said, shutting my eyes once more.

"Uh, yeah, I can even it out. And we're fine, by the way."

"Sorry. Will it be too short?"

"Alice, please, unless I gave you extensions your hair would be too short for you."

"Just make me look pretty." I said.

"You are already pretty."

"Okay, enough! Your hair will be fine Alice –– wow." Rosalie said, holding up a lock of my hair that had to have been about six inches long.

"Thanks Rose, that helps a lot." I said with sarcasm dripping from my voice.

"I'm fixing it, I'm fixing it. It will look cute." My cousin reassured me.

"I trust you." I didn't trust what I said at the moment. I could not believe I let an amateur cut my hair. At this rate, I would have to pull off the bald look; a feat I was sure that could not be pulled off by anyone but Ghandi.

About half an hour later of snipping and manipulating my stubborn strands of hair. James seemed nervous as he swung the sheet from around me, and handed me a mirror.

"WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO MY HAIR? IT'S GONE!" I stared in the mirror in horror as my hair reached only until my jaw bone, if that, and was entirely uneven. Strands stuck out in odd places, and not one lock seemed to be where it was supposed to.

"I tried to fix it! I am so sorry, Ali, but this was the best I could do..."

"Best you could do??? I look like freakin' Einstein!"

"Well, you know the men love smart girls."

"_Not_ what I mean James!" He walked around me, sliding his fingers through the short, sloppy-looking hair that I was forced to call my own.

"If anyone could pull it off, you could. Maybe you could curl it or something.."

"Right, curl it so it can be even shorter! I am short, but I am not a brunette Shirley Temple!"

"Oh my god, Alice. What happened to you?" Rosalie asked as she gave James a smack on the arm.

"It's alright, I guess. I'll spike it or something...it could work." I gave a pitiful excuse so as Rose would restrain herself, as well as myself, from murdering James. God knows how I wanted to rip his head off.

I set the mirror gently on the table in front of me with shaking hands as the front door creaked open.

"Hi Rosalie, Alice...wow, your hair is...different." Bella said as she entered the kitchen, her briefcase still in hand. Her eyes were widened with my shortened hair, her lips slightly ajar in surprise, but even agape her mouth could not hide the subtle smile that graced it.

"Bella, James. James, Bella." Quickly introducing the two, I started them with a conversational topic and raced off to Rosalie. She was standing by the couch, filing her nails with a disinterested look on her face as I pulled her out of Bella's eyesight.

"Shit, Rose! We haven't swapped her clothes out yet!" Her blue eyes widened with the realization as she looked toward the numerous bags that were hidden behind a corner. "What do we do?"

"Haul ass!" She whispered, grabbing handfuls of bags, I doing the same as well. We skidded into the closest, and I began rapidly pulling off her old clothes off of the hangers and out of the drawers. Most of her shoes were acceptable, and I shoved them closer to the pair beside them to make room for more. Rose came in with the last load of bags, and started fishing through them and pulling out the various garments.

"Catch!" I swung an armful of hangers at her, creating a shower of plastic above her, clacking noisily as they hit her head.

"Ow!"

"Sorry! You hang up the dresses and skirts, I'll get the shoes, shirts and underwear."

"What are we going to do with her old stuff? If we leave them in here she'll wear it, and we can't get out of the apartment without her seeing!"

"You ever play football?"

"I watch it from time to time..."

"Good. Just be sure to have empty hands." Her face creased with confusion. "What are you doing? Keep hanging things up!" She went back to her work, and hurriedly we emptied and refilled Bella's third of the closet.

With our roommates old clothes shoved within knotted black, plastic bags and a representative of the Salvation Army waiting outside for our donation, I told Rosalie of the battle plan that would nearly ensure that Bella would not even notice her new wardrobe before tomorrow morning. Unfortunately, nothing ever goes according to plan.

"...I'll be right back, James, I am just going to change into some pajamas first. It's been a long day..."

Rosalie and I looked at each other with panicked faces.

"Shit!" We both exclaimed. We snagged bunches of black, plastic bags and made a mad dash toward the door as Bella slid in between us.

"What is the matter with you two? I'm only trying to..."

"Cover your ears!" I whispered to Rosalie.

"ALICE! ROSALIE! WHAT DID YOU DO WITH MY CLOTHES? You went shopping for me _again_? Without even _telling_ me!" She raced after us, blocking the front door in the process.

"James! Catch!" I screeched, tossing bags to James, and running around Bella. He threw the bags back to me, as he did with Rose. The nearest table leg send Bella sprawling to the floor, leaving us plenty of time to run down to the street where the donation truck was waiting.

We arrived back at the apartment, panting for breath, and smiling evilly. Bella stood there, leaning against the wall with her hands folded across her chest, eyes closed with one of her hands over her face as she often did in stress.

"Do I even _want_ to look?" She said with dread in her voice.

"Oh come on, it will be fun!" I said, grabbing her arm and leading her into the closet. Her chocolate eyes ran over the garments hanging from the brass bar, with both wonder and fear in her eyes. Bella's worst fault was what she called modesty, what Rosalie and I called self-consciousness. She had no idea that she truly could pull these daring clothes off, if she tried to. That was the only difference between us; I wanted to pull them off, while she was scared to. That was why we forced her into them. She would thank us later, that is, if she didn't murder us first.

"Stop with the deer–the–headlights look. You'll like them, I promise. Now, over here you have the shirts, which are amazingly cute if I do say so myself, most of them are pink, white, black, purple, and of course, your signature blue." I dragged her over to the far side of her third, and pointed out the correct skirts went with which styles of shirts, especially one in particular that I would have claimed my own if they had it in my size.

"Alice? Did you get me stilettos? Are you joking?"

"Hey, don't curse the shoes. And they all have rubber on the bottom, so no sliding here."

"Sliding is not what I am worried about; it's the falling..." She grumbled as she fiddled with a pair of platforms.

"Just look around, and know in your heart that we do this because we love you, and that you are never ever getting your old clothes back."

"Thanks a lot." She said, sarcasm dripping from her voice. I skipped out of the room just as I heard her open the drawer that I wished she would have waited to explore until the morning, or until I was hiding in Mexico. "What did you do to my underwear? Do you know how creepy that is?"

"Seriously Bella, Victoria's Secret is not really that big of a secret..."

"Do you really expect me to wear these, these things where the how–to–wash tag is the biggest piece of fabric on them?" Bella said, holding up a pair as she investigated them, trying to figure out which way was up.

"Considering the selection, those are fairly modest." Rosalie said as she leaned against the doorway, strategically placing herself out of the rang of Bella's fists.

"Holy crow, what is this? Wait, never mind, that is a stocking." She concluded, holding up a thin, black nylon sock that was begging to be worn underneath the pair of classic black 'office pumps' as I called them.

"You really have to have more faith in us, Bells."

"Why wouldn't I have faith in two people who steal my clothes and replace them with some that are borderline obscene?" She said, leaning against the chest of drawers. I tilted my head, and lifted one eyebrow.

"If you don't like the clothes, we will take them back, and you can go to work in your birthday suit." I threatened sweetly.

"Did I mention how much I love this blue dress? Very classy."

"I knew you'd come around!" Wrapping my arms around her, we made our way back to the living room. "So...how was your day?"

"I crawled on the floor to hide from Edward at Starbucks when I ran into his leg, we're going to try to be friends, office cougars are stalking the guy who washes my window to the point where I can't even walk into my own office, Edward sent me a first draft of this incredible article that made me turn into a puddle of goo, you know, the usual."

"There is nothing usual about us. We're unusual people in a supposedly sane world."

"Maybe that's just it. Maybe it's not the normal people who are supposed to be looked up to."

Bella was right. Even if it was only a thought to comfort our lack of normality, it was easily believed, and even plausible.

"So you are saying that you look up to Edward?"

"He's a lot taller than me."

"Especially when you're on the floor."

"Not what I meant." She retorted, grimacing.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"What I mean is, everything is different since he came here. You understand, don't you? What about that guy on the subway?"

"What about him? He was using me to cheat on his girlfriend!" I said, rage bubbling within me at the memory. "Who slapped me across the face! In public! With a ring on!"

"You can't know that for sure. The way you described him, he doesn't seem like someone who would do something like that. He actually reminds me of someone that Edward spoke of."

"Who?" I asked, grinning. Maybe this would be the identity of the mysterious blond man on the train.

"His brother, Jasper. Come to think of it, he was on the train..."

"What did he say he looked like?" I was nearly bouncing on top of the springy couch while I saw James and Rosalie sit down across from us, enjoying the scene. Bella was in thought for a moment, trying to remember.

"I think he said he was big, really big, and dark, curly hair. I think." My heart sank, my ears had strained to hear her say that he was tall, claustrophobic, with golden hair.

"Damn. That's not him." That moment dissolved any hopes I had of discovering who the man was. That moment also dissolved my intent of thinking that the man on the subway used me for something. Bella hadn't even met him, and she thought the same. The situation was so abnormal that I could easily have misinterpreted their relationship.

I looked at the cable box beneath the TV to check the time, and realized I had somewhere to be.

"Love you Bells, Rose, James, but I have to pop into work for a while to babysit the interns and meet the photographers. And buy numerous hair products...anyway, be good, Rose, scream at Dickwad for me, and good night."

I stepped out the door into the brisk air, and I knew there was no denying that I would do almost anything to meet the nameless blond man once more. I was obsessed, addicted, even, to a man that was worse than heroin. He was handsome, gentlemanly, and completely unattainable. And worst of all, he wasn't mine.


	13. Normal, Embarrassing, and Usual

**Disclaimer- **All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Author's Note-** First, let me say to all my readers that I sincerely apologize for the month and a half that has passed without an update. Life caught up with me, and writer's block prevailed. It is so exciting to be writing again though! It wasn't until I sat down and typed on my computer that I realized how much I missed it. Also, some very exciting news! This story has been nominated for the Twilight Awards ( ./ ) for Best Work In Progress, Best POV, and Best Alternate Universe! One last thing, I also have an account on .net/ . In the forum, there is a thread by the same name as this story, so feel free to check it out to hear some insider updates on the story! Thank you all for making this story such a success!

**Elevators, Blackouts, and Strangers**

**Chapter 13- Normal, Embarrassing, and Usual**

**Bella**

As was the norm for my life, I awoke to my alarm blaring, jolting me into the reality that was seeming more and more unrealistic. I awoke to solitude, an emptiness hanging in the crossing shadows of the room that did not only seem to emanate from the bed that was too large for only me. I bought it originally thinking that the grand width of the mattress would feel luxurious and regal, and at first it was exactly that, but now it was a burdening reminder that the other half was empty, that the plush cushioning was worn to fit the contours of my body only on the left-most side, and worser still on those odd days that I rolled over to the forbidden side, the side that was still stiff and new, cold and hard.

It felt like even my bed, a furnishing that was supposed to comfort and ease to rest was mocking me so much so that I could almost feel it shaking with laughter at my own stupidity.

Smacking my hand across my nightstand, my palm came to a rest atop the button on the alarm clock that restored silence to the room, but it the noiselessness made it even more obvious, and hideous in my eyes. My loneliness was projected like an old movie – intense, watched, intimidating. It made the core of my stomach ache and my chest begin to tighten with claustrophobia, strange considering the emptiness I felt. With all these emotions, I couldn't help but think of Edward, and that he was entirely a tease, and meant only to be eye-candy. We were friends, and nothing more. Even more odd than this, my mind strayed to the man with a dark complexion and a baby face that kept my window transparent and glittering free from dirt.

Edward was forbidden fruit, a friend, someone who couldn't be violated by flirtations or any sort of staring even. He was bait, and I was the fish that was bound to be pulled to the surface to my death, which made him all that more alluring.

Though it was not as if Jacob was free for the taking either. Crowds of office women were gawking at him daily, probably in addition to half of New York's single women who just happened to look up. It was amazing what kind of treasures you could find when you look somewhere once unobstructed.

Again I took a shower, dried my hair and dressed in new clothes, and regrettably new underwear. I had no idea why so many girls insisted on wearing this sort of..._garment_...when they complained about wedgies. I guess it was one of those 'if you can't beat 'em, join em' sort of ordeals. Still, the point of it all was unknown to me. Reluctant as I was, I wore the nearly non-existent garment. I was not quite brave enough to go commando just yet. Or ever.

Even with the low self-esteem that I had at this time, I still had certain standards, though some violated by my invasive friends.

I got dressed with minimal panic, realizing that Alice and Rosalie did have a vague idea of my taste in clothes, if I were to have any. They were right, and I hated to admit it. At least I did not have to admit it to their faces. Yet.

I also could not deny myself of the fact that I took extra time with my appearance so as I would have less time to kill before the dreaded moment that I would have to return to my perfect job, with the perfect office, but also with the perfect man that was just out of reach. And how much I wished to reach out and touch him...

I banished that thought from my mind, further disallowing myself to think of Edward for my sanity's sake. Who knows what I might do if I became obsessed with him. Perhaps that was the key to it all – I had to forget about being anything more than Edward's friend. After all, I was surely not the first in line for his affection, even being that he was new to the city. He defined the term 'could get any girl he wanted'. Unless the woman was blind. And deaf. And heartless. Even then, that woman would have to be a nun, chained to her chamber with the thickest of locks and keys.

That was what I was under now. Locks and keys with that gorgeous man standing open armed before me, and me pressing against the cold steel as I struggle to escape into his muscular arms.

_No_. I told myself. _Don't think of Edward like this. It will only make it worse._ I continuously told myself with no success. It was when I forbade myself from leading my thoughts to Edward, it was all the more alluring to remember the sight of his beauty.

It was this internal debate that kept me occupied on the subway ride to work, and as I closed my eyes my anxiety did not ease. Little benefit came out of this argument, and the only outcome that came from it was that I had convinced myself of a forbidden fruit, and though I had never in my life been a rebel in any sort of form I found myself wanting to do the wrong thing. I knew I had to take my mind off of him, in that way at least. I had to befriend him, really befriend him, not just agree to be friends but to become close beyond going to the point before being 'just friends'.

I had never quite understood that phrase, 'just friends'. _Just_ friends? What was so demeaning to a relationship without romance? Was it true that unless you dated, kissed, or planned to marry a friend of the opposite sex that it would not be quite as fulfilling? It could be somewhat plausible if that said person was single, maybe even for a long time, but what if that person had a boyfriend? A husband? Would that alone lead them to commit adultery against the one that they once promised to love, honor, and respect? Of course, there could have been something else to prompt the disloyalty, as a perfect relationship, if one could in fact exist, would not come apart with the woman befriending another man, and wanting it to be more than 'just friends'.

What was so wrong with being friends? When people come to learn about how close Alice, Rosalie and myself all are, equally with one and the other, they are awestruck, and sometimes envious. No one said anything about being 'just friends', and I knew it was only because we were straight. If it was say, Mike Newton and myself, if you put aside the fact that he is completely un-dateable and borderline disgraceful, say he was a normal man people would be wondering when it was that we would date, for they would consider it an inevitability, and would use that 'just' term.

While my mind raced about this topic, the movie 'When Harry Met Sally' flashed in my mind. In the start of the movie, Meg Ryan and Billy Crystal's character's are thrown together in a completely random, binding circumstance of driving from college to New York City. The male lead unleashes his cynical nature, stating, and supporting, his theory that men and women can't be friends. They simply can't. Almost as if the laws of physics ranged into psychological reasons why one does, or doesn't love another.

Throughout the film, the two decide to remain 'just' friends. Yet, as the inevitability confirmed, they end up becoming something they consider to be more. Sure, even I was hoping for the two to become a couple, but now I wished that they had each found someone else that they loved, and grew old together being friends. Of course, I had to admit that the movie probably would not have had as many ticket sales.

Well, it didn't matter to me what the end of that film suggested. I was determined to become such good friends with Edward that it would feel as if he was my brother. That would be a hell of a good way to keep from falling in love with him, that was for sure. In the meantime, I would try to find as many reasons why he was not someone to consider dating him, and the only reason I could think about was that there was someone else who was better for me. Someone less...perfect.

That was it! I needed to find a man as flawed as I was, maybe not as catastrophe-prone but someone who maybe is forgetful, or procrastinates, or who talks when they chew. Maybe not quite that extreme, but it was the idea that remained important.

My station became visible in the plastic windows of the subway car, and stepped out with a new headache dawning on my skull. Complex social theories tended to require Tylenol in my experience.

I smoothed my clothes, and stepped beneath the towering building of glass windows, with only one, russet-skinned obstruction to be seen. He was just raising himself upward on his platform by way of the small, yellow control panel when I realized that there was no tinted glass between us. His head slowly turned in my direction, and a brilliant smile that seemed faceted like a Swarovsky crystal beamed toward me. Dark, onyx eyes bore into mine only thirty feet away, and his large hand moved quickly side to side in a large, playful wave. Blushing furiously, I bent my head down, and while one hand tucked a lock of hair behind my ear, another gave a hesitant wave back.

Jacob raised himself upward, and I wondered if he knew that he gave me an excellent office view that had nothing to do with the clean windows. Looking at the side of the building, I was sure that the near mirror of windows allowed no sight inward, giving me some peace. Until, that is, I felt someone watching me.

"If you are doing that experiment where you stare at nothing in the sky and see how many people look up, you have my attention." An unbearably beautiful voice rang gently in my ear. I looked up, and stared at the man behind me. The sun reflected in the depth of his eyes, making them look like a pond that stretched downward in an infinite number of feet. Shaking myself into reality, I repeated a series of words in my head.

_Friends, friends, friends, nothing else. Friends!_

"Do I? Well, then I guess that this is the perfect time to tell you what I thought about your article in person."

Edward smiled, and bent his head down a little, looking at me through his lashes.

"That bad?"

"No!" I backpedaled. "That good. It was really beautiful. Tell you the truth I have never read anything quite like it."

"Well, that's a relief. For a moment I was worried that it was down to the mail room with me."

"No, don't be ridiculous. There's a dungeon for that kind of thing." I teased. He laughed with such intensity that I could almost feel the vibrations rippling off of his chest. We began to walk into the lobby, and up into the elevators that were thankfully, filled with other people. I told him the specifics about his article, and about the format it would be seen in the newspaper, as well as image options.

Before we parted into our own offices, thinking about exactly what sort of picture to search for on Google Image, Edward said something that shocked me. He caught a glimpse of my office, as the door was open, and pointed to the interior.

"I think you have a Chip and Dale's show secretly running in your office. You could charge admission."

Blankly staring at him with wide eyes, my mind comprehended what he truly meant.

"Oh, Jacob. Yeah, that..."

"You know him?" He asked innocently, staring into my eyes unlike what most men did nowadays. To be frank it was somewhat intimidating.

"Sort of. Only by what I hear, and sort of see...anyway I have to get them out of there." I stopped my embarrassing ramble and pressed my palm onto my forehead trying to figure out a way to get the man-hungry women out of my space.

"Well, let me know if there is anything I can do."

"Thanks, but other than you dancing on a table with a bow tie I don't think there is anything that could lure them away." My stomach sank with the realization that I had actually spoken those words, and not just thought them.

Hesitantly, I looked toward the pale beauty beside me, expecting to see a disgusted look on his face when I was proven wrong. He had the look of amusement that a kid would have on a ride at Disneyland – completely stunned and completely entertained. His eyebrows were lifted into a surprise, and his mouth widening into another brilliant, blinding grin.

"Well, I guess it was a bad day for me not to wear a tie at all. Good luck." He turned and walked away in his accessory-less glory and shut his door behind him.

I could not believe I said that. I could not believe I actually _thought_ that. Of course now with the sight of my sub-conscience's apparent bow tie fantasy tearing through my mind my subway pep-talk was now completely ruined.

With the annoyance of my own humiliation, I stumbled into my office only to bump into Jessica standing in the back of the crowd that filled my entire space. There were secretaries sitting on my desk, nudging my computer ever closer to the edge of my desk, and my post it notes scattered around the walls in a disorderly fashion.

"Everyone out! Show's over!" I screamed amidst the throng.

"Give it a rest!" I heard retort from beside the window .

"Doesn't anyone here have a life? God!" I groaned, leaning against my door while I pushed a newcomer from entering. "Don't even think about it." I muttered to the idiotic intern who rolled her eyes at me and stormed away. What was I going to do? Not only had I just said the absolute worst thing I could say to a being that was as close to perfect as anything would ever be, but I also had no hope of having my own office to myself.

Resigning myself to the fact that my office would be overtaken for about a half an hour everyday while Jake cleaned my window, the window to the left, right, and the one above and below mine. I stirred my cup of coffee absentmindedly, trying to ignore the fact that no one here could make a decent cup when I heard a door close.

Sadly, it was not from the office women leaving my office, and worser still it was the gorgeous man who was walking toward me. He was going to come and tell me how inappropriate my comment was, I just knew it. Stirring the wooden stick even faster in the cup of burnt Folger's I stared into the swirling mixture.

Edward sighed, hung his head, and whispered "You owe me. Big time." He took a cup of water in a paper cup, drank half, refilled it, and smoothed his white shirt that rested underneath his black suit coat.

"What? Why? What are you going to do? Edward?" I called with no response. Again he disappeared into his office, leaving me utterly confused while I tried once more to clear out my office with no luck. I stood in the back of my small room, the door open to the rest of the building level. Footsteps were heard in the hallway outside the space, and I lifted my head to see what it was.

On the floor was a small mat, unevenly laid so that there was a wrinkle in the center. Scared that Edward was going to sue the Times to clear the women away, I started to stop him, but it was too late. With the cup of water in his hand, he tripped over the wrinkled, black mat, spilling water all over his chest. He stood innocently in front of my door, swatting away the drops that collected above the spot on his chest that was now see-through. Mrs. Cope, Jessica, and the numerous others rotated around with their torsos only to gawk at the man before them.

I too, I admit, was stunned. Mostly, I think, because he was so forbidden to me, that when I had a taste however small, it was almost more than I could bear. To make matters worse, before he departed back toward his office that unlike mine, was filled with girls, at least I could assume so, he gave me a small wink that made me into a speechless puddle of goo. I think my mouth may actually have fallen.

Waking myself up back into normality, at least as normal as my life could possibly be with Edward in my life, I took the time to usher the girls out of my office. Stunned as they were, they sort of floated out in a hazy stare. When the last one had been rid of, I fell into my chair, straightened my computer, and let my fingers fly.

The screen before me read the conversation that I prompted.

New IM to edward_cullen

bellaTimes: Thanks

edward_cullen: It was my pleasure.

bellaTimes: No it wasn't.

edward_cullen: you know me too well.

bellaTimes: I don't really. You're too mysterious. I could just tell that you aren't the kind of guy who does that on purpose without having a really good reason.

edward_cullen: mysterious? Well, that's debatable, but you are right. I did have a good reason.

bellaTimes: Which was...?

edward_cullen: I didn't want you kept from your office. I wanted to send you a few pictures I thought of so that later I will have time to dance on tables wearing a bow tie.

I couldn't help but laugh as I remembered the earlier mortification.

bellaTimes: Yeah, sorry about that. The heat gets to me.

edward_cullen: don't be sorry. I thought it was rather funny.

bellaTimes: At least my embarrassment served a purpose.

edward_cullen: you don't need to be embarrassed around me Bella

bellaTimes: why not?

edward_cullen: because a lot of people are. I intimidate people, and I hate it. I don't know why, really, but a lot of people avoid me because of it. I don't want you to avoid me.

bellaTimes: I find you intimidating. I stuck around

edward_cullen: why are _you_ intimidated by _me_? I am the newbie.

bellaTimes: No specific reason. Probably because you are smart, and you don't hide it.

It was the truth, but it was also a lie. He was intimidating to me because everyone loved him, and yet was terrified of him at the same time because he was such a gentlemen, and that there was absolutely nothing wrong with him that I saw.

edward_cullen: maybe.

No IM's passed between us for several minutes, and cyberspace began to feel uncomfortable.

edward_cullen: here is the picture I told you about. Jasper took it, actually. He wanted to be an architect, but he is going into the photography field. It's quite good. Let me know what you think.

I opened the file, and on my computer there arose a photograph that I knew was completely perfect for the article. It featured a sunlit, mirror-like building, modern in every respect, with glistening titanium, and geometric design. Beside it was, however, a small brick apartment building with a wrought iron fire escape that housed potted plants and small, plastic chairs. On the side of the rustic brick there was a small mural painted in graffiti of a pattern that had been created so long ago that it almost grew into the brick, making it a part of the building itself. Colors flared through the black and white photograph, the swirls of grays and darker grays becoming an array of light on the masonry.

A small patch of sky loomed in a space between the two structures, pinning a ray of the sunrise against the metallic skyscraper, much like there had been this morning when I was gaping at the window washer. It was magnificent in a way that it was not supposed to be. It was meant to be modest, and became something amazing. It was enthralling, and yet so familiar. It was perfect, and I knew I could not just use this photograph without looking at more of this man's work.

bellaTimes: It's really beautiful. I have never seen anything quite like it. You will have to tell your friend that I think it is absolutely perfect.

edward_cullen: Tell him yourself. I'll put up a chat box.

Before I knew it, another screen name was added to the sidebar.

andallthatJAZZ: Hey Edward. And guest.

edward_cullen: This is Bella. She has something to tell you.

andallthatJAZZ: If it was anything Emmett did to you I had nothing to do with it.

bellaTimes: No, not him. Edward sent me the picture you took of the two buildings. You have a talent, you really do.

andallthatJAZZ: Well, thank you very much, but there is a reason that I am on AIM in the middle of the day on a weekday. I am not very much of a photographer.

edward_cullen: How did that job go last night?

andallthatJAZZ: Don't go there. Please.

edward_cullen: Bad boss or something? Besides there are plenty of other opportunities out there.

Suddenly feeling like I was intruding on a conversation, I wanted to exit the private chat room when something took hold of my attention.

andallthatJAZZ: No. Worse than that. Subway Girl was there. Apparently she's a fashion designer.

The 'Subway Girl' could not be Alice, could it? It was plausible, certainly. She was stuck on a subway the night of the subway, and she was a fashion designer who met up with a group of photographers last night...could it be that Jasper, the man who I once thought to be Edward's claustrophobic son be the man who used my best friend to cheat on his girlfriend? The silent, blond man that kept Alice awake at night? Could it _not_ be?

edward_cullen: I'm sorry man. Listen, come in during my lunch break, and tell me about it then.

andallthatJAZZ: Sure thing. Nice to – sort of meet you Bella. See you Ed.

edward_cullen: Not my name, jerk.

Jasper signed off, leaving me alone once more with Edward.

edward_cullen: Like I said before, Bella, you have no reason to be embarrassed

bellaTimes: Thanks.

edward_cullen: Well, I have some work to get to as I am sure you do. Be safe, don't fall from anything, etc. Bye Bells.

bellaTimes: Hmph. Bye Edward.

We signed off, and while swiveling around in my plush chair I couldn't help but sneak a peak at Jacob. Even I had to admit, he was quite something to look at. He seemed to be pretty nice as well, taking the time to wave to a stranger gawking at him in the middle of the street. Most men would either show off their muscles with an egoistic pose, or file a restraining order.

The rest of the day passed by slowly, with only the boring work of an average day to pass me by. The phone rang, I answered it hesitantly to hear the calls of other author hopefuls asking for my advice, and I would either calmly listen to their case and give a polite excuse for why we could not do such things, but as the day wore on until my lunch break was in sight I found that simply hanging up on them wasted a lot less time, and brought me satisfaction.

As twelve finally came around, I popped a Tylenol in my mouth for the headache that had been raging all morning, and headed down to the cafeteria when I saw an unknown man walk out of the elevator.

His stature was something quite modelesque; he was tall, muscular but not in an obvious way making him look almost gangly with his six and a half foot height. Golden blond hair that reminded me of Rosalie's rested in curls that he continuously swept out of his eyes. Icy blue eyes stood like lighting against his pale complexion. On his face he wore a determined look, with a mixture of sadness and stress behind his focused eyes.

Out of the corner of my eyes I saw Mrs. Cope begin to fan herself at her desk. Apparently the New York Times building was collecting these kinds of men like a giant, man-magnet. Another advantage to working there, I guessed.

As we passed each other, the man who I assumed could only be Jasper bowed his head slightly as our eyes met, and I did the same as my cheeks began to redden. I wasn't used to this kind of gentlemanly attention from anyone, no less a man who could easily be a cover model for GQ. If this was the same Jasper from the subway, I could easily see why Alice would come to like him. Somehow, I didn't think that it was true that the situation with the woman who called herself his girlfriend was as it appeared to be. Perhaps Alice was mistaken? For her sake, I sincerely hoped she was.

Then my mind wandered to what must have happened last night at her design studio. I had fallen asleep long before she returned home, and had awaken before her as was the usual.

As my feet reached the white tiles of the cafeteria, I began to realize how often I used to words 'usual', 'average', and 'normal' to describe my life. It had to change.

In the line to pay for my soda, salad and bright red apple, I saw someone from my peripheral vision that immediately made me wince, but it was too late. I had been spotted.

"Hey there, Bella." Mike Newton strode toward me in all his custodial glory, a gray uniform and mop in hand, but worst of all with the smile on his face that pre-warned me that he was not going to be less than irritating.

"Hi Mike. How are you?" I asked out of politeness, not interest. He leaned against one of the cement columns and raked his hand through his gel-spiked hair.

"Same old, same old, you know. How's the daily grind?"

"Huh?" I asked, not quite comprehending.

"Daily grind? Job?"

"Oh!" I said, coming to realization. "It's good. Nothing eventful." Damn, there it was again! Another reminder of how dull my life had suddenly become.

"Pays the bills, right?"

"Right." I said, but I could not necessarily say the same for him, being at the bottom of the food chain.

"Newton! Quit slacking off! Someone trailed in dog doo that has your name written all over it!" A man in an identical uniform to Mike's yelled from across the room, his face turning a bright purple beneath his white hair.

"Coming Al." He called like a child being punished. He turned back toward me and said in what he probably considered to be a seductive tone. "See you around, Bella babe."

I had to withhold my shrieks of disgust for my new pet name. Even an idiot like Newton should know better than that! Shouldn't he? Of course, this _was_ Mike Newton. No one ever knew with a character like him.

After my food was paid for I quickly raced back to the elevator so as to get to my office as soon as possible, firstly to avoid crowds huddling in my space but also to get away from Newton. Maybe a restraining order would be a good consideration in this scenario...

Suddenly, as the elevator came to a stop as did the pang in my heart than came with the memories there my phone vibrated intently in my purse. Fishing through the black bag I became a balancing act with the soda and apple pinned against my side with my arm and the salad resting on my knee that I held level to the ground.

"He–hello?" I answered as I pressed the phone between my cheek and shoulder.

"Bella, it's Mom."

"Mom? Hey! Um, can I call you back I am kind of in the middle of something..." I replied as I slowly hopped toward my office with my salad wobbling dangerously under my careful eye.

"Too busy to talk to your own mother? I don't think so. So tell me, what is your new job like? Have you written anything? Has anything been published yet? Because you know I want some copies for Charlie, Gran, and myself. I started scrap-booking and I think that something with your name in print would be absolutely perfect..."

"No–nothing is published yet. I am not the one writing, Mom."

"If you aren't writing who else is?"

"Um, Edward. He writes and I edit–OW!"

"Oh honey! Are you okay?"

"Yeah,. Just stabbed my arm with a door handle...look can I call you back in just a sec? I need to open my door."

"But I have so much to tell you! So, Phil and I decided to take a scrap-booking class, well, mostly I did and brought him along, but still, it is so fun! I actually might stick with this one!"

"That's great Mom." I said as I wrestled with the door handle with no effect.

"So, Bells, how's the love life?"

"My love life?" I said as I finally opened the door. Suddenly, as I began to speak again the front of my shoe caught on something on the floor in front of me. "Well, pretty non-existent, except for a few guys in my office that are pretty hot...aaah!"

"Bella? Bella? Are you alright? Bella!" A voice through the phone resounded. As I looked up from the floor after my short screech, my mortification of falling, literally, on my face, was nothing compared to the humiliation of realizing that my comment was not only heard by my mother. Even worse than that was who it was that heard it. My head tilted up to see a very surprised looking man behind a large wooden desk, in front of which was another man, only seated far enough to the side to allow for a perfect view for the green eyes too see me clearly.

I had stumbled into the wrong office. I had fallen flat on my face, telling my mom about the office hotties, which were at the moment Jacob, Edward, and Jasper, in front of Edward and Jasper themselves.

Edward was stunned, his black, office phone still in his hand that was held halfway to his head with his mouth slightly open, his entire body stunned into stillness. Jasper was turned in his seat, looking somewhat repulsed and embarrassed rather than shocked, as if I had walked in on a matter of life and death, or a plan to rob a bank or something. Squeezing my eyes shut, I looked away from the two men and stood while collecting my numerous articles.

"Um...sorry wrong office." I said as I picked up the apple that had fallen from my hands numerous times as I tried to grasp it. With the phone next to my ear, I hastily shut the door behind me, only to get the strap of my purse stuck in the door. Trying to walk away, my body was snapped back to the door, forcing me to open it again and release it.

"Bella! Do you need me to call 911?" Renee shouted into the phone.

"No, I'm fine, but I just really need to go."

"Why? Do you need Band-Aids?"

"No, I need to hang my head in shame. Talk to you later Mom."

"Alright. Love you sweetheart."

"Love you too."

I had never walked into my office fast than I had at that moment. I threw my things on the chair, and sat cross-legged right in the middle of the floor, and my arms folded over my head.

It was the worst thing that could have happened, and one of the worst moments of my life. It was this feeling that lasted throughout the day, when I realized that my major crush on Edward would in fact, crush me.


	14. Surprises, Humiliation, and Demises

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Author's Note-** Hey everyone! Happy 2009! I know it has been many months since I updated last, and I do apologize but life just got in the way. Also, it is a bit strange that I updated only after I put myself on hiatus, but once the pressure was off I found it easier to write. However, this does not mean I can return to my weekly updates. I will try to update, but I still consider myself on hiatus for the time being. Such were the days when I started writing Fanfiction over the summer and put out a chapter a day. But I hope you all had a good holiday season, a fantastic New Year, Valentine's Day, St. Patrick's day, and any other holiday I might have missed. I hope you enjoy the chapter!

**Elevators, Blackouts, and Strangers**

**Chapter 14- Surprises, Humiliations, and Demises**

**Jasper**

I woke up on my third Thursday in New York city without the blare of an alarm to do so. The nine-o-clock sun turned the inside of my squinting eyelids, making me pull the thin sheet over my head, and sink back into the mattress. The last thing I wanted to do was wake up to the grim reality that I was unemployed, with almost no chance of being hired anywhere that was classier than the seven eleven in Brooklyn. It was the middle of the week, and I had nowhere to be.

Edward had left before I had even been jolted into the sad existence I was now living in, but still there came a grizzly snore from the room beside mine. My eyes pulled open in shock, not knowing who it was who slept on the other side of the wall. Slowly, stealthily, I slid from the sheets, and tiptoed across my room and toward the minuscule closet on the side opposite from my bed. Carefully I jerked open the creaky door to hear a sudden stop in the rumbling snore. I froze, only until I heard the primitive roar return.

Gently, I removed the metallic bat from the corner of the closest in which it lay, and propped it in the air with a firm grip on the worn leather handle. With extreme caution, I touched my hand to the gold colored doorknob, and twisted it to the side, widening the slit of light that poured in from the other room.

Walking on the balls of my feet, I looked to the couch mere feet away from me. The window on the far side of the room cast a brilliant glare of light over the snoring beast that took up residence in the apartment that Edward and I shared. Creeping over to the side of the couch, I raised the bat above my head, and began to pound at the mound of person that lay beneath another heap of blankets, something rarely done in this heat.

"What the fuck?" The rumbling voice growled as he awoke. The creature sat up straight as I lifted the bat above my head once more, and looked toward me. "Jasper! What the hell man?"

My eyes widened as they saw none other than Emmett rubbing his eyes with a nasty look on his face.

"What's with the bat?!" He yelled, rubbing his arm.

"I thought there was a beast in the room with your snoring! You have your own apartment, remember? Why did you have to sleep here? For all I knew there was some hobo spending the night here!"

"So you calling me a hobo?" Emmett yelled, standing up.

"No! But you could have been!"

"Jesus Jazz. Stop being such a chick." He snatched the blue bat from my hands, and tossed it to the side. "Of all the ways to wake up in the morning, I get beaten with a bat by my brother! In his underwear!" I looked down and, to my astonishment, saw only blue boxers. Feeling suddenly self conscious, I eased back slowly from the couch.

"Oh grow up Jasper. I'm naked right now." I squeezed my eyes shut, suddenly extremely thankful for the blanket he had wrapped around himself.

"Dude! Why? Why do you do that?"

"Well, unlike you I am used to sleeping naked with a chick next to me. You wouldn't know anything about that though."

"Come on, Emmett, Edward's the virgin here."

"Doesn't mean you get any action."

"I get action." I said weakly.

"Really?"

"Can we change the subject? Please? Like why you are in my apartment when there is a perfectly good one a couple blocks away?"

"Gah." He groaned, putting his head back in his hand. "Psycho Bitch was at it again."

"The Barbie Girl song?"

"Yeah."

"Sorry."

"I bet she's ugly. And old. With twenty three cats, and lots of overgrown plants. Crazy plant-cat lady."

"Who sings songs by Aqua?" Emmett raised an eyebrow, and I knew I had said too much.

"I am just going to pretend that you don't know who sings a song about plastic girl dolls." I started to walk back into my room, and shut the door behind me as I screamed for Emmett to get dressed.

"Why? Where do you have to go?" He said. I stopped a few feet away from my bed, and thought about what he had asked. He was absolutely right. I had nowhere to go, nowhere to be, no people to meet. I was a certifiable loser.

"Leave."

"Pull the stick out of your ass, we're having fun today."

"If you mean eating Cheetos all day you are surely mistaken." I said as I took my clothes into the bathroom to shower.

"No Cheetos. We are going sightseeing!"

"God." I said as I twisted the knob for the shower, blasting water at high temperatures into the space. I hated tourists, and especially hated being a tourist. Still, I had lived in the city for nearly three weeks and it still felt like a foreign place, that I was just going to go home in a couple days. I still kept my clothing in my suitcase, as I did in hotels. The truth was that I was terribly homesick for Chicago, the only home I had ever known.

Everything seemed so out of place here. Mentalities of my neighbors were the complete opposite from mine. Everyone seemed to avoid each other, and though they did this in Illinois it was in a completely different way. Here, people genuinely wanted nothing to do with you; it was bitter rejection. It was pathetic for me to think this way, for a man of over six feet in height, and though not brawny like Emmett somewhat muscular to be intimidated by the short man who worked at the fish market who yelled at me last week for slipping on a piece of ice, but it scared me more than I could have imagined.

"What you think you doin'?" He had screamed. "You wanna git me sued o' somethin'?" Normally, I would have told this guy where to go, but he had this fire in his eyes that almost sent me running. The difference in this city, which I think most people visitors or inhabitants alike, aside from their reports of this place is that people have reasoning behind their intense reactions. They don't just want to mess with people's heads, they sincerely, and completely despise them.

It was unfamiliar, unnerving, and completely disorienting in every aspect. For the first time in a long time I felt alone, even with my brothers here. There were no childhood memories, no old school friends that you run into years after graduation, no slabs of cement that have your initials carved in them when the cement was still wet, none of it. Not that Chicago was one of those towns with white picket fences, but was home. My initials were not encased in cement, but they might as well have been.

I dried myself with the towel, ruffled my soaking hair, and pulled on my clothes while avoiding looking into my eyes in the mirror. I could imagine how pathetic I must have looked, and I didn't want to be reminded about how pathetic I really was.

Walking into the living room where Emmett was loafing, I took advantage of his being stuck to the couch with the blanket around him, and shook the water out of my hair directly above him.

"What's your problem today?" He joked.

"The bear that scared the crap out of me."

"Hilarious Jazz."

I walked into the kitchen to find an empty refrigerator, with the exception of a rotten apple, baking soda, and the few things that Edward had bought. I had the terrible habit of leaving the shopping to the very last minute, or that is until I got so hungry that I could not bear it.

Emmett and I decided to make a last minute stop to Starbucks before we embarked on our journey around the city in which we lived, buying me a little bit more time before the humiliating day of tourist attractions. Emmet was easily excited by the smallest things, and being that there was the opportunity for something that was worthy of a fuss being made over I was terrified of what the consequences could be.

With a latte in my hand and the last bite of a croissant in my mouth, there was nothing left to use as a stalling device.

We boarded a tour bus with crowds of people packed inside and on the top. Retired couples dressed in khaki shorts, sandals with socks underneath, and fanny packs hung on their hips as they adjusted their sun visors for taking pictures. As we found our seats, on the top level of the bus of course, for Emmett would have it no other way, I felt the sudden, extreme urge to shield my face from the world. With my hand at the side of my sunglasses, I pulled a baseball cap over my wild locks and sank into my plastic seat. The brawny man beside me had the grin of a young child as he took pictures over the side of the bus.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw a couple of teen-aged girls wearing t-shirts that read 'I love New York' giggling to each other and pointing at Emmett, and beside them on the other side of the aisle I saw the mother of a two year old hug her child closer to her. I highly doubt she was nervous about the size of my brother and was intimidated, but rather did not want the bad influence to be placed upon her young son.

I hunched my shoulders away from the railing, wishing that the burning heat in my face could somehow make me shrink into the size of a quarter. However, being on this bus would be torturous no matter how small or easily hidden I was. It still smelled of spilled food and tourists, and the seats were still littered with dry bird shit, a fact that I hadn't realized until just then.

Emmett, upon seeing my distraught face turned to me and said "Aw come on, Jasper, liven up."

"How?" I asked. "How on earth do you expect me to have fun on the piece of crap they reserve for visitors? We live here for a reason – no overpriced hotels, and certainly no tour buses. It's embarrassing!"

"What's to be embarrassed about? It's not like you know anyone here, or at least, no one important..."

"No but still. I like my dignity and I'd like to keep it, thank you very much."

"Dignity? What dignity? You beat me up with a bat you moron. Come on man, you have to learn to make fun of yourself sometimes."

He was right. He was always right it seemed lately. I hated that. In a world where Emmett was right nothing else could be trusted. I was sure even the laws of physics had it written somewhere that once this idiot was right the world would self destruct in seconds. I had to believe him, however, because if the world were to blow up I would at least want to have made the best of a bad situation. Besides, in a couple days' time I would have taken pictures of actual _models_, the sort of thing that would drive him crazy.

"Fine." I told him. "But don't think that you can always have your way with me."

"There ya go." He said enthusiastically, forcing my head into the crook of his arm as he shook me side to side.

"Get off me you jackass. I said okay but not to being in a headlock." After blatantly ignoring me, I decided to look around, letting go of my fear of being seen. Not that there was anyone to see me. Not that the one person I wanted to see would see me, at least. What were the chances? Too great. Too little. I would rather see her while I looked like a mindless idiot than never see her again. At least I could explain myself. Hopefully.

Leaning back in my seat, I pulled myself upward, folded my arms across my chest, took a deep, lasting breath, and opened my eyes.

We were in the center of Times Square, and all around me there were colorful advertisements framed with flashing lights, people hustling from one side of the sidewalk to another, both tourists and residents alike. Over half were on their cell phones, and the other half had their faces buried in maps.

All I could see in my mind were framed of certain sights, either distorted in color, black and white, or in such a raw state that it seemed almost unreal. Graffiti marked some street corners, and stream floated from above the subway below. Cars honked, cab drivers screamed and somewhere in the distance a dog barked away it's sanity. The squeaking of the bus growled beneath us, honking and swerving around the inferior cars beside it. In all the movies and TV shows I had seen, I assumed there were no residential cars in Manhattan, only to be proven wrong. There were large, SUV Lexus', compact Smart Cars and the luxurious Mercedes S500 series that streamed around the twists and turns of traffic.

"Hey Em, can I see your camera for a second?" I asked, reaching for the small digital camera that rested in his lap.

"Sure man." I wrapped the strap around my wrist, tightened it, and sat behind Emmett in the empty row behind us. Leaning far over, I took, sideways shots of the buildings that towered with uneven layers of signs and scriptures, the rays of golden sun that beat down upon the wandering people and the steam that rose into the rays from below. Not stopping to look at the pictures I had taken before the next one was being planned, I realized that I might have a future in photography. Though it was not fashion I was shooting, it was still vivid imagery of my new surroundings, and immediately I felt at home.

Leaning halfway out of the bus, a voice on the loudspeaker blared into my ears.

"For your safety, we ask that ALL PASSENGERS please keep their arms inside the vehicle at ALL TIMES. Thank you for choosing Tour Manhattan and have a nice day." Complying, I resumed taking 'normal' shots as Emmett watched me with the shit-eating grin I knew I would be paying for later.

"I knew it." Was all he said. I stopped taking pictures, and patted him heavily on the back.

"Thanks man."

The bus continued around the streets, twisting between tight roads and alleys, avoiding traffic and swerving the cabs who seemed to invent their own rules on how to drive. It was times like this that I realized the subway was safer, even if it broke down. And when it did break down, interesting things happened. I missed Subway Girl. If only I knew her name then perhaps I would have the slightest chance of finding her. Did she take the subway every day at that time? Doubtful. I shook these stalker-like thoughts from my mind, and continued to try to enjoy my day.

"Where does this thing stop?" I asked. Emmett checked the brochure in the pocket in the seat in front of him, and answered that the farthest place it would take us was Wall Street. "

We exited at the last stop, just as we were beginning to feel motion sickness approaching. Strolling along beside the likes of stock brokers and all other sorts of important business men, Emmett and I had our heads up the clouds as we surveyed every aspect of the famous street. Even the air tasted a bit like money.

"Hey Jasper – think we could get a tour of the Federal Reserve?"

I blinked at him.

"No, you idiot. This isn't a Die Hard movie. There aren't any Germans trying to steal the gold beneath our feet."

"Damn. Would have made a great postcard story."

I stared at him with a strange look on my face.

"I hope to God you never reproduce."

"Ehm, that's what condoms are for, my man. Not that you would know or anything, based on your lack of experience."

"Shut up. Save them for Edward. He's worse off than I am."

"Not for long with that Bella chick he keeps talking about. You, on the other hand, are lusting after someone whose name you don't even know. She could be in jail for all you know..."

"She's not a criminal, Emmett, she's just unavailable to me. Big difference. Besides, you were there, can you blame me?"

"Not really."

"Besides, you don't know what it's like, longing for someone like that. You were always the one who could get anyone you wanted, you and Edward. Only the difference between you two were that you actually went and got them. Every week you had another girl on your arm, and Edward had them every month or so. I never did. I didn't even ask a girl out until the tenth grade, and I was stammering so much that she couldn't even understand what I was saying. She had to guess what I was asking her. There's something wrong with me, Em, and I will never be able to get over it. I like her, I feel like I could ask her out if the opportunity was there."

Emmett seemed to think this over for a minute, and after drawing to no conclusion whatsoever simply answered with a shrug and told me that it was too deep for a boy's day.

Passing Trinity Church, we gazed over the names of the gravestones that were hardly even legible with all of the weathering they had endured. The dates of death read as early as the early seventeen-hundreds, especially around the years of the American Revolution. Yet another thing that Chicago did not have – this sort of history. Sure, there had been the mafia, the meatpacking district, the history in the industrial age, but not quite revolutionary status. It was remarkable – even Emmett was speechless. I wasn't even sure that he quite understood the gravity of the gravestones, but I was proven otherwise.

"You know, you read a lot about dead guys in school, but seeing their actual graves kinda, I don't know, humanizes them or something like that." He said as we were leaving the church.

"I never knew you could be so deep." I replied.

"I can be. I just like to make people laugh."

After a minute of silence, we decided to make our way to the World Trade Center memorial. Even after years of construction there was still a bit of rubble in the lot, still were static bulldozers and temporary elevators that led to the ground that was once the foundation for the two towers. Signs hung above the space, and everywhere there was a sort of heavy cloud of solemnity hanging in the atmosphere. No one around laughed or smiled; everyone was deep in thought. A bohemian man played one of is original songs on the old guitar he gripped between his dirty hands. The gentle strumming seemed to match the rhythm of my own heart, and the eeriness of it all started to get to me.

"Now what?" I asked as we were leaving the site.

"Now we are going to see a lady. A big, green lady."

We made our way by taxi cab to a large brick fort, dating back to the colonial times with old canons still peering out of holes in the wall. We ordered two tickets for the water taxi to Liberty Island, and being that we had a good amount of time before the next departure we decided to walk around Battery Park.

All around us there were paintings and portraits being drawn, stands of hot dogs and shaved ice were lined with overheated tourists looking for their thirsts to be quenched, and pigeons were harassing everyone in sight for a crumb of some kind. Children raced around the patches of lush, green grass, and everywhere there were people to be seen and gazed upon.

Soon enough, however, the water taxi arrived in it's hideously yellow glory, complete with a stripe of black and white checkers. We boarded, and at once Emmett raced to the innermost part where there was a souvenir stand.

"No." I said plainly enough. "I won't go that far, Em." I said after he made his purchases.

"Come on, Jazz, they're funny."

"They're embarrassing"

"Please?" He said, batting his eyes at me.

"No. No way in hell."

"Come on, remember all those pictures you took on the bus? Thanks to me? You need this."

"Fine. Doesn't mean I won't resent you for it." Humiliation washed over me as I pulled on the foam Statue of Liberty crown that was identical to Emmett's. It stuck up above my wind-ruffled hair in an odd fashion, making it seemed even dorkier on me than it did on Emmett. However, it did not end there.

"Come on, you know what comes next."

"God I hate you."

"I love you too, man." Then, on went the American flag ties. Not just any normal, patriotic, tacky ties but oversized ones which practically went down below the pockets of my jeans.

"You do realized these are choking hazards, don't you? If I die, I blame you. Shit I don't have a will...I should write one up when we get back..."

"Jesus Jasper, stop being such a pussy. They look fine."

"Oh, do they? Then why is it that no one wears this stupid shit on the street, huh? Answer that and I will believe you."

"'Cause they're not cool enough." I simply stared in amazement of his stupidity.

"Bullshit. Fine. Let's just shut up about the souvenirs, I'll make you pay for this humiliation later. I just want to see Liberty Island in peace."

"There ya go."

I groaned in submission. I leaned over the rail, the wind blowing through my hair as we powered through the murky water. Not caring to think about the crap floating beneath us, I drifted away into my thoughts, too distracted even to take pictures. Some images are better left to the eye than to the lens. Sometimes it was more special that way.

Then, a shadow drifted menacingly overhead. Almost, as if in slow motion, it happened.

Two seagulls, each with the same mission, flew directly overhead, and bombed Emmett. Two, large, white globs splattered on his arm, each projecting a new look of disgust on his face.

"HA!" I screamed, bursting into hysterics. "Karma's a bitch!"

"Fuck you, Jasper. How am I going to get this – this _shit_ off?"

"Take a dive in the Hudson." I offered.

"Fine, Mr. Literal, I will!" Before I had time to make up my mind if I believed him or not, he was pulling off his shirt, to the delight of a couple ladies behind us, took off his shoes, and before the attendant could stop him he flung himself over the side.

Not being able to contain my laughter, I fell to the floor as I watched his head bob up out of the harbor. Worse, on top of his head was an old banana peel. Another round of laughter overwhelmed me, and I became seriously worried about peeing in my pants.

"Hey you there! You stupid or something? You can't do that!" One of the workers aboard the water taxi yelled down at Emmett. "And you! Pretty boy, quit laughing." Of course I only started laughing harder.

"Me? Stupid? You're the one that's stupid! I mean look at this bay! It's a disgrace! A banana peel in the water, are you joking me? I could have sworn I saw a diaper in there too."

"Don't lecture me about the water, just get out!" The man in the blue uniform yelled, his face beginning to redden by the minute.

"How the hell am I supposed to do that? I am in water you shit face!"

"Fine! You can swim to Liberty Island!"

"Fine! I'll probably get there before you! And shut up Jasper!" In defeat, his plopped his water-logged foam crown on his head as it flopped into his eyes, and swung his heavy, darkened tie behind him. His hair hung in his eyes, and he struggled against swallowing the diaper-water.

With only about sixty feet until the dock, my laughter had subsided and Emmett was swimming faithfully by the taxi, getting honked at by a couple tugboats that drove beside him. With a mixture of curses and angry splashes, he managed to crawl aboard the shore. As soon as we were permitted to leave the cab, I joined up with my brother telling him that our round trip tickets had been revoked, and that we were never permitted to be allowed on board any ship of the company again.

"Well, I can say one thing for sure I did not come all the way out here just to have to swim back to Manhattan."

"We'll figure something out." I reassured him. Glancing around, I saw a sign that read 'Jet Ski Rentals Here'. Nudging Emmett, his eye caught hold of the sign as well.

Within minutes, we were on board separate jet skis, feeling like we were in a remake of the movie Hitch. The only differences between ourselves and the movie was the stench coming from Emmett, the fact that I had never been on a jet ski before, and no Eva Mendez to make everything more worthwhile.

"So, you twist this thingie here, and then you turn the handle bars, got it?" My brother vaguely explained.

"Yeah I get it." I lied. Beginning our journey home, we powered up the engines, secured our life vests, and were off. However, it was easily called a rough start at the least. Not understanding the full power of a jet ski, I lurched forward as I yanked on the gas, and was propelled forward.

"EMMETT!" I shrieked, holding onto the vehicle for dear life.

"Jesus Jasper!"

"Help!!!" my scream was carried away into the wind as I heard my brother propel behind me. Staring straight ahead, I concentrated more on avoiding obstacles. Attempting to steer, I jerked the jet ski sharply to the right, cutting of my brother in the process as he sped toward me.

"JUMP!" Emmett bellowed as his jet ski was about to collide with mine. We leapt off of our seats, hurling ourselves into the cruddy water of the Hudson. Watching from a three-foot distance, we realized our stupidity – we had safety keys that were attached to our wrists. With one swift yank, we could have stopped then and there, safe and dry. Em could have taught me how to ride properly, and continue to Manhattan. No, instead, we were bobbing in our own, revolting stupidity.

"Well. This blows." I murmured as we watched our keys drift slowly down further into the depth of the river. Without them, our modes of transportations were better off as buoys.

"That's the understatement of the year."

"Better get swimming, I suppose."

"Yeah. Guess so." Em agreed.

"You know," I continued. "I think I saw that diaper you were talking about." My brother looked at me with the look on his face that read 'asshole'.

After what seemed like an entirety of swimming through water that was almost no better than a sewer, we finally reached the shore, being met by a coupe representatives of the coastguard. Thankfully, they believed our embarrassing story, and sent us on our way.

Sopping, Emmett and I walked down Wall Street, trying to hail a cab, only to be refused because of our grimy states. Instead, we strolled around , searching blindly for the subway when I caught sight of a clock nearby.

"Fuck! I'm going to be late! I have to go to that job in the Fashion District in half an hour!"

"Can't you call in sick or something? I mean wouldn't it be worse to show up in this state?"

"No! This is the first job I have even come close to getting, I am not passing it up, and I can't call in sick!"

"Fine! What do we do then?"

"Subway." I sighed.

"Subway."He repeated. "Alright. There's a station near Trinity Church."

"Thanks man."

"Yeah." He huffed. "You owe me for this, though."

"Owe you for what? You're the one who suggested we go sightseeing you moron."

"Call it even?"

"Fine." The stench of Hudson followed us into the small confines of the subway car, leading a wave of people to pinch their noses and turn away, some more subtly than others. Thankfully, none of the faces I saw were those of anyone I reconized. Of course, this also gave me a pang in my heart. I had friends in Chicago, and sure I had Edward and Emmett but I also wanted my own life. I wanted to fit in here. Of course that would never happen if I made a habit out of falling into sewer water.

Only two seats were left on the train – both beside a rather scary looking hobo. With Emmett on my right and the homeless man on my right, we took our seats. The man beside me looked at me strangely, then in his gruff voice suggested that he stand instead. The woman who sat next to Emmett did the same, and chose to hold onto the steel bars that hung from the ceiling of the car.

Reaching into my pocket to check the time, I winced as my hand clutched my soaked phone. Shaking the excess water off, I hesitantly looked at the dark screen. All was black, lifeless, with only drops of water pressed between the screen and the computer chips behind it.

I began to ask Emmett about his phone when he simply shook his head.

"It's final resting place is now amongst the banana peels and diapers."

"Poetic."

"I've been hanging out with Edward too much."

"Apparently." I retorted. Leaning my sopping head on the window of the train, I closed my eyes and silently fought off the claustrophobia that began to overwhelm me. Emmett kept his eye on me, and was pleasantly surprised at the lack of panic attacks.

After what seemed an eternity, our stop finally came up. The Fashion District. The sun had set, leaving the city in darkness. Windows of nearby skyscrapers slowly illuminated one by one, radiating the city with light. Red taillights reflected off the glassy exterior of the building I rushed towards, a metaphor of the misty heat that surrounded the city and the inner race that thudded against my heart.

Giving the security guard in the lobby a soaked twenty, I jogged toward the elevators with Emmett right behind me. Hitting the button for the twelfth floor repeatedly, the doors finally closed and all we had to do was wait. Worse, there was a digital clock right above the door. I watched the red digits slowly tick, marking minute by minute how late I was.

A bell rang, and we were freed from the elevator. Tearing down the hall, I searched for the right door.

"Suite 200, 202, 204....206." I said, twisting the handle, and opening the door.

Inside, rows of table lined with sewing machines stood beside mannequins covered in ball gowns and skirts. Walls of thread, needles, and folds of fabric lined the walls, covering every square inch of space in fashion materials.

Standing in the middle of the floor were two different rows of people. The first row began with the man who hired me, his expression a mix of repulsion and shock, mirrored by the other photographers who stood beside him. Five models stood on the other side of the small space, each with looks of disgust, pity, embarressment, confusion, and surprise. All of them wore the original designs of a Miss Alice Brandon, as I was told, a new up-and-coming designer. Of course, little did I know that I had already met Alice.

There she stood. Her hair was shorter, almost scruffy looking, but it was definitely her. Her dark eyes were widened in shock, her tiny hand clasped over her open mouth. Her pale skin glowed in the florescant lighting, making her appear as heavenly as ever. That was, until, the stench got to her. I saw her cringe and hold her nose with her thin fingers as she began to walk away toward the other side of the room, not before I caught the look in her eye that I knew as recognition. She remembered me. Damn.

"Jasper! What the hell happened to you?" My new boss asked me.

"I uh – ehm, fell in the uh, Hudson, Sir." He looked me up and down, his face crinkled in disgust.

"Didn't you get my message?" He asked. I shook my head, and explained about my phone's premature death. "I tried to call you about a dozen times. We looked over your photos and decided that you are better suited to do spreads as opposed to runway shots." He leaned in and whispered as close to me as he could bear. "You weren't even supposed to come tonight."

Staring blankly around the room, I caught the models laughing hysterically and joking about my hideous appearance, as well as Emmett who stood behind me, dumbfounded. Humiliation washed over me, only ten times stronger than any of the other instances that occurred today. My entire face burned with the rush of blood that filled my veins, making my palms sweat and tremble. Reaching my hand up to my matted, partially dry hair I felt the spongy Liberty crown still soaked and flopped on top of my head.

"Um, okay then, I guess I'll just go. Sorry to um, waste your time." Not being able to look at Alice again, to see the look of mortification on her face again, I simply turned around and followed Em out the door.

My head was hung low to my chest as I sulked out into the hall and into the elevator. Neither of us spoke as we drifted through the lobby and back out onto the streets of New York.

With a sigh, I leaned against the marble back-splash of the building and slid down to the sidewalk. I buried my head in my hands, and Emmett sat beside me, putting his hand on my shoulder.

"It's alright man. She knows it was a mistake."

"Doesn't matter. It really couldn't get any worse than smelling like sewage and showing up when I could have spared myself of this torture."

"It could be worse. You could have been naked."

I glared at him.

"You know, I never thought I would say this, but I really need to get sloshed."

Emmett looked confused for a moment, then realized I was serious.

"You want to shower first?"

"I'll be sucking on an exhaust pipe by then. Just get me out of here."

"Uh, okay, how about New Moon?"

"No. Nothing trendy. A bar. The kind of bar where people go to be miserable."

"I know just the place." He answered.

"You would."

That was the last thing I could remember saying or doing that night, that is until I woke up in the bathtub, soaking in the filth I was covered in. After rolling out of the tub, draining the water and taking a decent shower, I looked at myself in the mirror to find someone I didn't recognize. I saw someone who was a fool for a girl who would never like him back. The only difference between now and high school was that I knew that there would never be anyone else like her. And I lost all the dignity I had in front of her.

I must have killed a lot of really nice people in a past life.


	15. Close Encounters of the Dangerous Kind

**Disclaimer- **All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Author's Note - **Hi everyone! It has been a long, long time since I have last updated, and I apologize. I hope to finish this story within the next few months, or at least, within the year. My summer has been more busy than I had anticipated, but soon I will have more time and more muse to update. As to my other story, the sequel to Beauty and the Geek titled Reasons to be Missed will be a lesser priority. Thank you all for reading and reviewing!

***Challenge - If you are able to bring this story's number of reviews to 600 (currently it is at 558) before August 3rd at noon, then I will GARANTEE another chapter before August 7th!!! No more than two reviews per person, however, (that's cheating!) so tell your friends!**

**Elevators, Blackouts, and Strangers**

**Chapter 15- Close Encounters of the Dangerous Kind**

**Bella**

Smacking down on the alarm button, I slumped out of bed and walked sleepily into the closet. Not really caring what I picked out, I grabbed a random black blouse and and skirt, adding my favorite white lace ballet flats for some difference in color. Feeling strangely brave for that hour of the morning, I searched the new jewelry drawer for a long, faux-pearl necklace that tied in an elegant knot forming a loop at the bottom, and a pair of earrings that were in the shape of black roses.

It was different, but somewhat...invigorating, feeling not pretty for a chance, but beautiful, or even...sexy. Dropping the ballet flats to the floor, I opted for a daring pair of black platform sandals that urged me closer. Knowing I would regret the choice later, I decided to ignore the other side of the argument against the deadly heels and go with my instinct.

After another strange feat – blow drying my hair and using a round brush to tame the unruly waves – I walked over to the kitchen, remembering that I had a trip to Starbucks to make. I heard another alarm beep in the room beside me, and seconds later the door creaked open.

"Morning Alice."

"Huh? Oh. Morning Bella."

"So...are you going to call him or what?"

"Who?"

"Come on, you know who. Don't tell me you went through all that trouble to get that guy's number and you aren't going to call him."

Alice raked her fingers through her wild hair that seemed to extend straight out from her head as did that of Einstein, and she leaned against the door frame with her eyes still squinting against the light.

"Well it seemed like a better idea last night. Besides, I was heavily intoxicated..."

"You had a glass of wine...with food! You called the photographer your company hired for the next shoot, got the number of the guy who showed up with his interns last night, who dug for the number of his blond friend named...what was it? Anyway, got his number after convincing him you weren't a stalker or wanting to blackmail him or something, and then you didn't call him. Now I may not have the expert experience of you or Rosalie but I do know that you do not put in that much effort to do nothing."

"Oh come on, Bella. When can I count on you to be the logical one anymore? You're the one who was supposed to convince me not to do these ridiculous things, not myself! And why do I feel so much shorter??" Her eyes snaked down to my towering heels which I wobbled in when standing, and her eyes were lit with excitement.

"Bella! Well, look who is finally coming to her senses!"

"Yeah, yeah." I mocked, smiling. "I have to get to work. Call him!"

"Woo! Bella lookin' sexy! I guess it wouldn't have anything to do with, I don't know, a co-worker or something...?"

"Bye Alice." I said, giggling and blushing.

After walking to Starbucks and waiting for my drink, I got on the subway around the corner and held tightly onto the vertical bar leaning as far away as I could from the scary looking man clutching an old portable stereo. Sipping my coffee and keeping the strap of my bag high on my shoulder, I stepped off the subway, stumbling a bit after adjusting to my new, towering height, and made my way toward the New York Times building.

Once inside, I was greeted by a few co-workers and of course, the newest janitor in the building.

"Hey babe." Newton said, mustering up all the dignity he possibly could in his gray jumpsuit.

"Mike." I said, not stopping. He walked beside me as I struggled to keep a quick pace in the heels.

"So...I was wondering if sometime you'd like to..."

"No." I said firmly.

"But we could..."

"No."

"What if...?"

"No." He stopped walking as I continued down the hall, leaving him stunned in his tracks.

"Alright. Well, I guess next time..." His voice drifted off as I neared my office, which of course, had a crowd of people gathering outside the door.

"Okay, everybody out!" I said with my arm pointed toward the outside of my office, and after a sigh the women, and select few men, slowly filed out of the room. Taking my seat at the swivel chair in front of my desk, I sat back and decided to enjoy the view outside my window.

With only the separation of the window between us, Jacob was squeegeeing the glass vigorously, his muscles rippling beneath his skin with the motions. His white tank top was nearly sheer with sweat that glistened in the sunlight, turning his russet skin golden in the rays' reflections. Wiping moisture off of his forehead, he took a few seconds to stretch out his long arms, casting the golden beams across his face and chest.

Smiling, almost childishly, I muttered to myself, more loudly than I had intended.

"Break me off a piece of that!" From outside the window, I saw his large ribcage shake with laughter as Jacob leaned over, his hands on his knees, buckling over in laughter. What could be so funny out there, I wondered? It wasn't until he made eye-contact with me that I knew he wasn't laughing at someone in the street or something he heard on TV last night.

"Did-did you..._hear _that?" I asked, flushing violently. When his brilliant smile widened even further I knew my answer. Burying my face in my hands, I heard a knock at the window. So he could see my humiliation, too. Which also meant he could see _me_. "Whatever happened to tinted windows and thick, soundproof glass?" I asked the empty surroundings around me.

"The windows are tinted, but when you get right up close you can see right through them...and no office buildings have soundproof glass above the seventh floor in New York City, Miss Swan." a husky, yet friendly voice answered me, muffled slightly by the traffic stories below. Looking out from between my hands, I saw him, leaning against the window, one hand holding onto the rail that kept him from plummeting to the sidewalk, his face as radiant as ever. We should start charging admission for women to see the building as they would a Chip and Dale's show.

"How do you know my name?"

"The more important question is how do you know mine." he retorted. "I hear you answer your phone – Bella Swan's office. See, I don't have an office.'

Still bewildered, I slowly gathered my nerves and replied that the ladies in my office somehow knew.

"Ah...yeah, that Mrs. Cope is a wild one."My eye widened in shock. "Relax" he said when he noticed my startled appearance. "I'm only joking. So...you want a piece of this, do you?" his lips curled into a dangerously seductive smile, sending goosebumps racing from my arms down to my spine.

"I-uh, I'm sorry about that." I scratched the back of my head, an excuse to look away for a moment.

"Don't be." Jacob winked. "Well, I gotta be going, you know, building to wash, but I'll see you around." Flashing another deliberate smile, he yanked on some sort of pulley, and dragged his mid-air cart to the left until he disappeared out of sight. Burying my head in my hands, I desperately wished that it were possible to vanish into thin air at a moment's will. Unfortunately, I knew that was not going to happen. To suffice, I hit my head a few times on my desk, and sat there for a while until I realized that I had work to do. I wasn't e entirely sure what kind of work it was, but there was something to be done, that I was sure of.

An hour of near-meaningless research later, Edward knocked at my door, walking I after I called for him to do so. There, in all his glory sitting on one of the chairs that faced my desk, he was. He still existed, not evaporating I to a worse version of himself, or worse, into no one at all. He was still a human, hard to believe yet true, and he was sitting on my chair.

"Is there something I can help you with, Edward?" I asked, pretending to look busy while typing away at my computer, him not knowing that all I was doing was updating my Facebook status.

"Well, yes actually. I was wondering if you'd like to go to dinner this weekend..." his voice continued to speak, but I was left breathless, speechless, floating in my only little world of Edward and a dinner date that I would no doubt accept. "...with me and my two brothers to a restaurant that I need to review. I decided that the Culinary Arts are sometimes overlooked. It's called New Moon, have you heard of it?"

"New Moon?Oh, yeah, ehm, I've uh, heard of it." I choked out while doing my absolute best to stifle my crippling disappointment. Work related. Not a date. Just to review a restaurant. Not even the two of us alone where we could pretend it was all for review when really he just didn't know how to ask me out, but no, with his two brothers.

"Yeah, you could bring your two roommates, Rosalie and...I'm sorry, what was the name of your other roommate? I completely forgot..."

"Hm? Oh, Alice. Rosalie and Alice."

"Alice? Hm, that's coincidence..."

"What coincidence?"

"Oh, nothing. I probably saw something about an Alice on TV last night. Anyway, I was thinking that it would be a long-shot that you girls were free on a Saturday night, but if you are, would you like to join us? A sort of triple-date without the whole awkward date part?"

Go ahead, stab my heart. When you're done, feel free to tear apart and put it in the paper shredder next to the Xerox machine. Then, please, stomp on it as hard as you possibly can.

Instead, I replied with a solid "Sure, that would be great."

"Meet you there at seven?"

"Seven it is."

"Bye Bella."

"Bye." I said meekly as he closed the door behind him. It was just an intuition, but I had a feeling my forehead was going to be awfully sore that day. Little did I know that it was going to be a lot worse on Saturday.

**Saturday**

"What the hell am I supposed to wear!?" Alice shrieked as she ran around the apartment gathering various utensils of beauty and hygiene. "I can't wear blue because you are wearing blue, I can't wear black or red otherwise I'll match the restaurant, Rosalie is wearing pink..."

"Purple?" I suggested, tugging at my blue, ruffled halter top that fell over my denim-covered knees.

"I am not going for the Barney look, Bells."

"You won't look like Barney, you're not nearly tall enough." Alice stopped her hysterics, and rolled her eyes before racing back into the closet. I remained standing in front of the mirror that hung next to the door, fidgeting with my hair that even when straightened, overwhelmed my frame. The contrast between the mahogany color of my hair and pale white of my skin was near-blinding, and for a moment I contemplated a self-tanner. Shaking the notion from my mind, I strode slowly toward the couch, exhaling deeply, checking the clock on the microwave in the kitchen, wishing the butterflies in my stomach would take flight...or even just get hit by a damn taxi for all I cared.

"Quit pacing! It's making me nervous!" Rosalie said as she slid into her silver Jimmy Choos.

"I can't help it." I said, swinging my arms in front of and behind me.

"Bella!" she said, grabbing my arms and pinning them to my waist. "Repeat after me."

"...Are we really going to do this?"

"Repeat after me!"

"Fine."

"This is not a date." she said while I tried to look away. "Say it." she said again, forcing my face to hers.

"This is not a date." I repeated as ordered.

"Edward Cullen doesn't want to be anything more than my friend." I glared at her intently.

"Edward Cullen doesn't want to be anything more than my friend."

"I have absolutely nothing to be nervous about because nothing is going to happen between us!"

"Is this supposed to make me feel better?" I asked, insulted.

"No, it's supposed to keep the nerves away. Now say it!"

"Alright, alright, I get it."

"Good. Now chill out, for my sake, at least." I obeyed, reluctantly but fully, and sat in a huff on the couch while Rose tossed her hair around in the mirror. A few minutes later, Alice came out from the closet, wearing a silver, flowing dress that rippled around her knees and patent gray heels that brought her up to the height of the average American woman.

"What do you think?" she asked as she twirled in place.

"Smokin'!" Rose said, completed by a wolf whistle.

"You look amazing, Alice." I said standing, then wobbling in the stilettos she had strapped me in.

"Thanks! Let's get going then, shall we? Don't want to be late!"

_Finally,_ I thought to myself. We piled into a cab, checked our appearances in our compact mirrors, and before we knew it we were just outside the restaurant, walking toward the hostess. We weren't sure whose name the reservation was under, but once we walked inside I heard a faint voice call my name.

Our eyes darted around the restaurant until they landed on a waving hand which was attached to Edward. Classy, as always, he wore a white, button-down shirt under a gray suit, his hair appeared to have been brushed but still stuck out in odd places. However, what struck me most was his smile, and how his eyes were lit up even in dim lighting.

Rosalie had her eyes on someone else, the large, muscular man that sat beside Edward, to be precise. Curly hair and brown-eyed, he looked somewhat childish, but strangely had a sense of practicality and allure about him at the same time. Within a moment, he too, was fixed on Rosalie. Of course, what man wouldn't be, a tall blond with nothing to hide and no reason to hide it.

Alice was a different story. She had frozen in place, her eyes wide and petrified. As we began to walk toward the table, she grabbed my arm and yanked me back, casting a look of confusion across Edward's face.

"Alice! What's wrong?" I asked, trying not to look as stupid as we did.

"It's him!!" she whispered on her tip-toes into my ear. "That's the guy! Jasper!"

"What?" I asked.

"And that's his brother! Emmett! The big guy with them!" Shock overwhelmed me.

"You mean Jasper, your _Jasper_, and the Emmett on the train...are Edward's brothers?" Panic resounded in my voice to the point when I could hardly recognize it. I was supposed to be the cool and collected one, damn it! And I intended to remain so! Of course, intentions aren't always what ends up happening. I was living proof.

"Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes to all of it!"

"I hate this craziness!" I said, hand on my forehead. "It's too much!" We looked up to see the three men staring blatantly at us, Emmett looking worried and amused while Jasper tried to hide his face behind his hand.

Rosalie looked at us, her face creased in confusion.

"Come _on_, you look like lunatics! Let's at least sit down while we hide our horrified looks of disgust, shall we?" she said, obviously not knowing what was going on.

We took our seats, sliding onto the red velvet cushions with fake smiles plastered on our faces. Alice and Jasper, ironically, ended up sitting across each other at the far end next to Emmett across from Rosalie, then me and Edward at the other end. They avoided each other's gazes at all costs, until I decided it was time for a group trip to the bathroom.

"Hey Edward." I said, trying too hard to be non-nonchalant. "Thank you again for the invite."

"Sure, no problem." he said, though obviously still worried. "Is everything alright here?"

"Uhh, yes. Of course it is!" I said, this time too excitedly, earning a look of humiliation from Rosalie. "It's just that uh, Alice forgot something."

"Oh? What did you forget? Can you re-trace your steps?" Edward said, encouragingly.

"Um, no, not exactly." I said for her, not expecting her to catch on quite yet. "Something...else."

The boys looked at each other, looking for answers in their eyes until finally, they found the one I had planted.

"_Oh_!" Edward said, flushing. "You ladies go right ahead and uh, take care of it." his brothers, along with Alice, blushed as well.

"Thanks for understanding." I said, standing. "Come on, girls." I said, walking behind a very pissed-off Rosalie toward the bathroom.

We stepped inside, and Rose locked the deadbolt on the door behind her, seeing no feet under the stalls.

"Would you two mind telling me WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?" she nearly shrieked.

"Jasper! It's JASPER!" Alice said, pointing to the locked door.

"WHAT?" Rosalie shrieked again.

_Meanwhile..._

"Shit." Emmett said, rubbing his forehead with his giant hand.

"What? If you have something against Bella just tell me now..." I said, fidgeting with my gray suit.

"That girl – in the silver dress, that was Alice."

"Alice? _The_ Alice?" I asked.

"Yup." Emmett answered.

"Jazz, I am so sorry..."

"It's – it's alright, I guess. I'll stick around, but I don't know..."

"Just chill, Jasper." Emmett said. "Everything will be fine."

_In the bathroom..._

"This is going to be a disaster!" Alice cried. "It's Jasper! The guy I can't stop thinking about who stank up my work studio!"

"Just relax." I said. "Be cool."

"Yeah, just have a glass of wine, and you will feel a lot better." Rosalie suggested.

"You know? You're right!" Alice said, standing up taller. "I can do this! I mean, it's not like we're getting married or anything, right?

_Meanwhile..._

"Right! I'll just play it cool, maybe she'll see me now for who I really am." Jasper said with a touch of bravado in his voice.

"That's the idea!" Emmett said. "She doesn't stand a chance against you now that you're clean and not claustrophobic." Jasper glared. "Just have a beer and it'll loosen you up a bit, get your game going."

"Alright. Alright, alright, alright. How do I look?"

_Meanwhile..._

"Gorgeous! Now, let's walk!"

The three of us walked back to the table to find the guys collected and casual, as they had been when we had found them, and sat in our original seats just in time to take our drink order.

"Hi, can I get a glass of your house red?" Alice asked.

"Beer for me?" Jasper asked. Emmett and Edward ordered the same, Rosalie white wine, and I said that ice water would be fine for me.

"Oh! I can't believe I have been so rude, these are my two best friends, Alice, and Rosalie." They both said hi. Alice looked awkwardly at Jasper.

"And these are my brothers, Jasper, and Emmett." Emmett reached across the table for Rosalie's hand, bringing it to his lips in a gentlemanly way.

"Rosalie." he said with a devilish smirk.

"Emmett." Rose smiled. Jasper, however, went for a handshake. Looking at him appraisingly, Alice hesitantly touched her hand with his. At the same moment their eyes both widened and their breaths caught in their chests, both looking at each other with dazzled eyes. Maybe they had found something they remembered after all. The dreaded spark we all wish for and fear at the same time. At that moment, however, I envied it.

"Jasper." she said.

"Alice." he said.

Trying to lighten the intense mood, I said "Edward!" comically, and Edward did the same, but we both found ourselves ignored.

The drinks came, and the two lovers at the far end of the table looked down, returning to the state of neither looking at each other, or even allowing their existence to be known by themselves. Alice quickly gulped down her wine, and ordered another, and Jasper was dangerously closed to doing the same. I soon feared at how this evening would turn out.

"So, Emmett," I said, trying to spark a group conversation. "What pays the rent for you?"

"Sports medicine." he said, not taking his eyes off of Rosalie's batting eyes. "If you ever need anything looked at...you can trust me, I am a doctor." She ate it all up.

"Well, Doctor, I have had a pain in my lower back lately...would you be willing to take a look at it?"

"Anytime." he said. "Just as long as it's at your place." Jasper began to giggle next to him.

"Why?" Rose inquired.

"Well, I sort of have a neighbor problem."

"Oh, I see." she said, not asking anything more. "Well, my place it is..."

"Woah, wait a minute there. Only when Alice and I aren't home, please." I interjected.

"I second that." Alice said, halfway through her second glass. "Actually, I'll third that." she said, looking at the remaining drops. "Excuse me? Can I get another? Thanks." she said to a passing waitress, not caring if she was ours or not. I shook my head.

"I'd like to make a toast." Edward said. "To friendship."

'To friendship." We all chimed in, clinking our glass. Seeing Alice guzzle down her third drink and Rosalie and Emmett whispering in lower and lower tones, I decided to focus my attention to Edward, who looked worried as well.

"And they say your family is the only thing you can't choose.." he said jokingly, scratching his head.

"Well, they were definitely wrong. Whoever 'they' are." I laughed. "So, what are you going to order, Mr. Culinary Arts?"

"Well, they have a great Fillet Mignon and Beouf Bourgignon..."

"Whoopsie!" Alice said as Jasper turned her upside-down menu right-side up. "No wonder it was so hard to read, I thought I was crazy!" Jasper sighed, trying to help her order, seeing as the room was spinning too quickly for her. "Can I have another?" she asked the non-existent waitress, holding up her glass. "Can I?" she asked Jasper.

"Um, maybe we better stick with water." he said, confiscating the glass from her tiny hand.

"Aww, Jazzie. You're no fun...except on the subway that is, HA!" she laughed as she banged her fist on the table, rattling the silverware and glasses, then putting her hand over her mouth and laughing. "Ooopsies."

Jasper sighed. It really didn't take very much to get Alice drunk. An empty stomach, and a few quick Mer lots and she was hammered. Rosalie put her hand on Alice's shoulder, and yanked her back upright whenever she seemed to drift to either side.

"What is the best food to absorb alcohol?" she asked Emmett. He shrugged.

"Beats me. I just know how to deal with hangovers."

"Oh? What remedy?"

"Whiskey."

"Ah." she said. "You know, your voice sounds very familiar...but kind of different at the same time. God, I just can't place it..."

"Maybe from your sleep?" Emmett suggested.

"What?" Rosalie asked, confused.

"Because, baby, I am the man of your dreams." She could barely withhold her massive attack of giggles. Her heart melted like a hot knife through butter, just as Emmett had planned. His intentions were good, his smile sincere, and for once, maybe Rosalie had found the one person who was just like her.

"Smooth." I mouthed to him, visible only to the guys sitting across from me. Edward smiled his crooked smile, realizing I had his brother pegged. Emmett smiled somewhat smugly, but amiably, and Jasper concentrated on ordering food for Alice.

It seemed everyone at the table ordered some kind of red meat, even Rosalie, for whom anything other than salad or sushi was rare, and soon, our hungry stomachs were silenced with the on-come of food. Edward and I become enveloped in a hearty conversation, talking about work, life, and the correlation between the two. I was fascinated by the sheer way his lips moved when he spoke, then forced my eyes away from his lips, trying to stop the fantasies, then realizing my mistake when I found his eyes were even more deadly. That was when I noticed something odd, and became somewhat suspicious of Edward Cullen, and his brothers.

Alice was a mess. Jasper, however, like a parent, cut her food for her, and when she refused to eat, made subtle airplane noises audible only to our table, making her giggle and open wide. While she chewed, he ate for himself, until she would open her mouth again in her drunken stupor, waiting for another plane or train or some other mode of transportation to carry food into her mouth. While she ate, she would smile at him, in her own charming way, a feat only Alice could pull off when she could not even feed herself. Maybe this would even out their embarrassment?

When Alice wasn't looking, in her bliss of chewing whatever Jasper had fed to her, I whispered thank you to him. He simply smiled, and bowed his head. Something inside told me he was more than happy to help. There was something blissful about the scene, but I kept making excuses to talk to Emmett, Jasper, or my girlfriends, rather than Edward. He was not left out, of course, but I was beginning to think he was catching on. At one moment, we both froze, our eyes locking, and my cheeks burning with blood as I blushed. Looking away, I could feel his eyes were still on me. He knew. I knew. We both knew I was avoiding him, but only I knew why. My theory had become even clearer in my head, and soon I was convinced that I was not just seeing things. Every time I looked at Jasper and Emmett, it confirmed itself in my mind. Edward had lied, and I knew.

Rosalie was also playing detective, determined she knew Emmett from somewhere, but stopped questioning him so as not to appear stalker-like or creepy. Or both.

"God, I have had this one song stuck in my head all day..." Rosalie began but was interrupted by Emmett.

"Speaking of songs, Jasper knows the group 'Aqua'." Jasper glared. Alice laughed in hysterics.

"Aqua! They sing Barbie Girl, right Rose?" she said as Jasper tried to quiet her down, as she was nearly shouting. "I loooove that song!" she carried out the vowels while she swayed.

"I hate that song." Emmett said with passion.

"Every straight man hates that song." I said, looking at Rosalie, giggling at our inside joke, remembering how we had tortured Dickwad.

"No, I mean I really hate it. My neighbor problems involve that song." It couldn't be.. could it? It was too much of a coincidence.

"Really?" Rosalie asked, catching on. "How so?"

"This girl, she constantly plays that song so loud that there is no possible way that I could hear my own thoughts, even."

"You have thoughts?" Jasper asked.

"Shut up."

"You know, Rosie," Alice said. "That sounds just like us! We looooove that song! Rosie plays it alllll the time..."

Slowly, Rosalie and Emmett looked at each other. They knew exactly who the other one was.

"Oh shit." I whispered to Edward.

"What the hell is going on here?" He whispered back.

"Duck." I said, shielding myself.

"Emmett?" Rosalie asked.

"Rosalie?" Emmett mocked.

"Dickwad!" she said, standing and screaming.

"Psycho Bitch!"he imitated.

"Psycho Bitch?" Jasper replied meekly.

"Ooopsies." Alice giggled.

"You!" Emmett pointed at Edward. "You set me up with Psycho Bitch?"

"How was I supposed to know she was Psycho Bitch?" Edward yelled back. Now the entire restaurant was staring.

"Don't call my friend a psycho or a bitch!" I screamed, smacking Edward on the face. He glared back at me, but I did not falter.

"YOU! YOU EGOTISTICAL SON OF A BITCH!" Rosalie screamed.

"PSYCHOTIC FREAK OF NATURE!" he screamed back.

"OH! I WON'T STAND FOR THIS! BELLA! I'M LEAVING! I'LL SEE YOU LATER! TAKE CARE OF ALICE!" she snatched her purse and stormed off in a tizzy, leaving Emmett fuming behind, but with a twinged of...was it regret?...in his eyes. He walked away, slowly, thanked Edward for dinner, and ran outside.

The four of us sat in silence, but not for long. Alice had stopped swaying, and we had mistaken that for a good thing. It turns out, sometimes food is not the best thing for a drunk girl. Alice looked around, then puked all over the floor, barely missing Jasper and myself. Sighing, Jasper offered to take her home in a cab, and I wrote down our address for him while respectfully telling him that sleepovers were not permitted. He agreed fully, and, as she passed out in his arms, he carried her out the door, and slid her into a cab outside, the sat beside her.

There we were. Edward and I, alone. The restaurant mopped up Alice's sick, and because Edward had to stay to finish the article, I was stuck behind with him. After a few minutes silence, I apologized to him.

"I am sorry for how this turned out." I said. "I thought this would be a good idea." Edward knew me better. He looked at me with an inquisitive eye, and began a careful interrogation.

"Sure you did." I glared.

"I really did."

"Then what were you whispering about when you first got here?" he asked.

"Alice realized who Jasper was."

"Then why, all of the sudden did you stop talking to me during dinner?" Dessert arrived. A fanciful puff pastry work of art.

"Why do you care?" I said harshly.

"Because I do!"

"Fine! Why did you lie about Emmett and Jasper being your brothers?"

"What?"

"Just tell me. How is it that you and your brothers all have different hair color, eye color, and skin tones? None of you have any common traits, and Jasper even has a slight Southern twang!"

Edward sighed, and looked down into his hands, almost somberly, but with truthful eyes.

"We aren't biological brothers."

"Thank you." I said in a huff.

"We were adopted." I slumped in my chair.

"Oh." was the closest thing to an apology I could muster. He nodded to me in acceptance.

"When I was really young, my parents died. My aunt and uncle legally adopted me, there being no will from my parents. They knew how important it was for me to have a home, and when I said that I had always wanted a sibling they thought it was a great idea. They adopted Emmett and Jasper soon after. Jasper was older, and somewhat troubled as a young kid, raised in the south by an abusive parent. He is fine now, but we weren't sure at first if he would ever let himself be accepted by us, or society. That's why we don't look alike."

I looked into his eyes, full of stories, full of history, and pain in the midst of it all. I had, in fact, been to rash in judging his character, and found myself full of regret.

"Edward, I am so sorry, I had no idea." I finally said, breaking the silence.

"Don't be sorry." he said, but I knew in the tenor of his voice that the words were meaningless.

"No, I am sorry. Truly. This whole time we have been colleagues, I have constantly been forming my own conclusions about you and even your morals, but now I realize that I hardly even know you, and believing I knew you better than you knew yourself. I guess I just...got a little cocky."

Edward looked up at me, his eyes full of sincerity, and acceptance.

"We were kidding ourselves, weren't we?" he said.

"About what?"

"About thinking we could just forget about what happened. Something did happen, Bella, and we never talked about it."

"What's there to talk about? What happened happened, and it was great, but we're co-workers. It never works out well."

"Maybe that's just it." we looked each other dead-on in the eyes, for the first time, and were completely honest with on another. No games this time. No secrecy. Just two people, talking.

"So." I said.

"So." he repeated. "I think it might be best if we are just friends."

"I agree." I struggled to say. "Except for the 'just' part. We can be friends, as long as it's not 'just' friends." I feigned a smile. So did he.

"Friends, then."

"Friends." We shook on it, and sipped our drinks as we began to pick at our elaborate desserts. I wasn't hungry, not in the slightest, and was devastated beyond anything chocolate alone could soothe, but was determined to disguise the subtle quivers in my hands.

As our blank check arrived, and the owner of the restaurant came to the table to talk with us for a moment, Edward and I were deep into conversation about the sorts of things friends would talk about. He hailed me a cab, and sent me home with a friendly hug which felt so good I never wanted to let him go.

But I let him go as the cab drove away with me inside, leaving Edward waving to me from the crowded sidewalk. I twisted around in my seat, facing forward, and thought to myself, that maybe we could be friends. Just because we agreed not to be romantic interests did not mean that we had to be uncivilized. Besides, as the evening proved I hardly knew anything about him. Perhaps now that we talked about it we could leave it all behind us, and we could function like human beings.

This was the real turning point. For once we finally knew what the other was thinking, and we both came to the same conclusion. Friends. Permanently.


End file.
